


Rogue Planet

by TheNotSoSuperSaiyan



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Space, Cowboy Monkey Space Pirates, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Desert, F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, Resistance, War, gunslinger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 114,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNotSoSuperSaiyan/pseuds/TheNotSoSuperSaiyan
Summary: Bulma, the precocious and fiery daughter of Dr. Briefs, founder of Capsule Corp, has discovered a mysterious energy deep within the planet. Realizing it was put there by something ancient and powerful, She decides to try and complete the Dragon Ball, and awaken the ultimate power. Reunited with her childhood friend Goku, they set off in a state-of-the-art Capsule Corp spacecraft and set course for adventure! Little does Bulma know that she’s about to get hopelessly entangled in the bitter, age-old feud between the remnants of a fabled race of deadly warriors, and a tyrannical galactic overlord.*****************Author's Note: To everyone who has been reading, we just got around to see what Google Translate thinks of Samoan (the language we are using for "Saiyan") and it is not even close to accurate. How do we know? Well, you see Hanko is fluent in Samoan.We have now edited all existing chapters with translations for all the language that isn't in common/english at the end of each chapter. For future chapters this will be included upon publication. Thanks for reading!xoxo,Mo & Hanko





	1. Prologue One

**Rogue Planet: Prologue One**

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

& Hanko

* * *

 

Bulma awoke slowly breathing in the stale, sterile air. She didn’t want to open her eyes, for she knew when she did her dreams would wisp away like tendrils of smoke from a fire long extinguished. She had dreamt of the ocean again…the bitter salt spray that stung her eyes and danced along her skin, the gentle lapping of the waves against her feet, slowly pulling the gritty sand from beneath her toes, beckoning her further in…calling to her. With every breath, she was reminded just how far away she was from the ocean, any ocean.

Gently rolling out of bed, Bulma walked across the empty room to the wide bevelled window. The light of the distance stars illuminated her small living quarters, speckling her face with brilliant light. It was stunning. But in all of its beauty, she still felt hollow… aching for home, for the feeling of fresh earth beneath her bare feet, for the smell of hot oak, and wild pine. She longed to wander deep into the forests and lose herself. All she had with her here was a simple orchid on her bare table. It was a gift to remind her of home, but it had lost its flowers months before and despite her best efforts it refused to bloom again. So it sat there, slowly withering and wasting away. It reminded her of herself.

She was so far from everything she knew, so far from Earth. Her longing for home reverberated deep within her bones and threaten to curl her spine up, leaving her there folded up like a paper fan.

Taking another deep breath she pressed her face against the glass, it was so thick the icy, void of space had not cooled it. She didn’t have time for homesickness. There was an entire quadrant of this galaxy that needed to be charted. She had a once in a lifetime opportunity, one she had fought hard to make a reality. She wasn’t going to lose it now over sentiment. She activated the lights in her quarters and stripped her clothes off.

She told herself today was going to be a good day and nothing and _no one_ was going to change that.

 

_She was so very wrong._

* * *

 


	2. Rogue Planet: Prologue Two

It started as it always had...in the darkness.

 

Vegeta blinked rapidly, attempting to force his sticky eyes to adjust to the change. They had done it enough times in his life and normally they adjusted rather quickly, but not here.  _ Never here _ . 

 

The dull drumming of hot liquid beads fell down on him like soft pellets. He wiped his face, desperate to keep the warm showers from clouding his vision even further. He didn’t have time for distractions. Not now.

 

Ears twitching with anticipation, he heard a low rumble, barely audible as the pads of desperate footfall grew more rapid. Louder and louder they came, but from where? He was growing more agitated. Settling into his stance, he adjusted his footing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to scare him away, not now. He had survived everything else that had come his way. 

 

The hot barrage from the dark skies fell harder and faster now. He wiped at his face again, lips curling back in a deep, guttural growl. He whipped his head around scanning the dust and wreckage but could find no signs of life. Then, suddenly. There he was. Small, so very small and insignificant.

 

The boy’s head hung as if he were a puppet on a string. Dragging his tired feet over the mountains of rubble, he slowly made his way closer to the Vegeta. The child stopped directly across from him with a jerk, as if he had been yanked by an invisible chain. 

 

The boy was pale with milky, fair skin - a drastic contrast to the mottled bruises and open wounds that covered his body. Something twisted deep in the pit of the Vegeta’s stomach, something was  _ too _ familiar about all of this. 

 

Silence hung heavy in the air. 

 

With what seemed to be great effort, the small child lifted his head and locked eyes with the man. “Toyt, aevilok er. Vera fyrir thirn, é gett ekki...munn ekki.” The words hung between them like a haunting melody refusing to die. The small figure lifted his head the rest of the way with a violent jerk. The whites of his small, intense eyes bore holes deep within Vegeta’s soul. Willing his frozen body to move, the best Vegeta could produce was a pathetic twitch in his fingers. 

 

Completely. 

 

Frozen. 

 

The words the child spoke, in a language that always tasted old and stiff on his tongue, refused to leave him. 

 

_ This death, it is yours. I cannot carry it for you...I will not. _

 

The child extended his arms towards him slowly, as if beckoning for him to come closer. 

 

All of the sudden it was as if his frozen lungs had remembered how to breathe but were no longer in his control. They exploded into action. His breaths came ragged and fast, his hands shaking and his head growing lighter. The thick, liquid beads pelting down on him were now running down his scalp, tingling, and running down his forehead and the back of his neck, impeding his vision. Vegeta tried to blink it away, only clouding his vision further. He willed his hand to wipe them away but it didn’t move.

 

The boy locked eyes with Vegeta again - trapping him in his iron gaze. Speaking, his tiny, pure voice piercing through the barrage from the sky and the settling wreckage, this time in a new tongue, the language the man had used for most of his life. The boy’s accent still thick and lilting “How far can you run,” he tilted his head to the side “...from yourself?”

 

The words pierced him like a hot blade. 

 

He barely recognized the child, after all it had been over 15 years since he had seen him... But he recognized him now. He saw himself, a frightened, frail prince. Heir to a dead race, covered in their blood. Vegeta took a step back and then as if instinct demanded it, he looked up to the sky. He didn't want to. In fact, everything in him was screaming against it, but no matter how he tried he could not stop. And that's when he saw them. Faces,  _ thousands upon thousands of faces _ ; every one of them one different. Dead eyes stared at him, some expressionless, others twisted and contorted with pain. There were so many, there didn’t seem to be enough space in the open sky for all of them. They hung over one another as if they were crawling to reach him. Their eyes seemed to lifelessly, listlessly follow him no matter where he went. Blood dripped from their limp bodies as they swayed back in forth in the wind, smashing into each other. 

 

He looked down at his body. He was drenched in blood, their blood - falling from the sky like rain.

 

There was no way out.  He could not escape the faces and he could not escape the boy. Where ever he turned the boy was there. Just standing and staring at him. Expressionless. The blood rain fell harder than before, soaking him. He fell to his knees, covering his neck and head with his hands. 

 

Suddenly pulled from his thoughts he felt the boy in front of him, drenched in the blood of the thousands of lives he has taken with his own hands. “What do you want from me?” Vegeta choked on the words. The small boy cocked his head to the side, his face blank. He spoke to Vegeta flatly pointing towards the corpes that hung like windchimes. “Where is my home? Where are  _ their _ homes?” 

 

Vegeta’s pride and will had evaporated long ago, like sweat on hot skin, leaving only salt to sting his wounds. Everywhere he turned the boy would appear, always one step ahead of him. His calm demeanor was unnerving, like the unbroken surface of the water. Suddenly, without warning, it broke.

 

“Drist skrímsli.” The child screamed, anger tearing through his small, delicate voice. He reached down and violently ripped the dirty, white haptic gloves off of Vegeta’s hands. 

 

Lifting his trembling hands up to his face he watched in horror as he lost their form behind the thick, dark coating of warm blood that seemed to ooze from them. 

 

“Skrímsli. Skrímsli. Skrímsli. Skrímsli.” the boy continued to yell as he slowly folded and melted to the ground like wet origami. Still screaming, his words could barely be understood and he began to heave broken sobs. Vegeta hesitantly reached out to place a trembling hand on the boy’s crumpled form but stopped. The blood. To touch the boy, he would cover him in blood. 

 

The child shot up as he screamed, his face contorted with pure disgust and pain “Don’t touch me, you monster.”

  
  
  


Vegeta’s whole body shook with a violent start as if he had been electrocuted. Subtle and subdued even in his utter panic his eyes darted around the dark, empty room. Ears twitching with the sudden rush of adrenaline through his body as he took in his surroundings, he grounded himself.

 

He tried desperately to control his breathing quietly through his nose, his mouth closed tight, lips disappearing entirely.

 

His eyes were no longer searching the room they were rolling around frantically looking at nothing in particular as he blinked rapidly. His mind attempted to process what he had just experienced or at least thought he had. It was a dream, just a nightmare. Children have nightmares. 

 

He scoffed at himself, hands still shaking, he slowly he rolled his stiff body off the bed. 

 

He swung the corrugated metal hatch open wide and stepped out into the windy night air, inviting the scent of dust and sage that curled his lips. It was a refreshing reminder that he was still alive. Thick darkness blanketed the skies. There were no stars tonight, just the darkness. He inhaled deeply, letting the icy air course through him. They needed to get off this planet.

 

_ Hmm, smells like it might rain. _ He scoffed to himself. The night was still relatively young but he would not sleep again. He would not even try because every time he closed his eyes he saw faces,  _ thousands upon thousands of faces. _

  
  
  



	3. The Renegade

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

 by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

  **CHAPTER ONE: THE RENEGADE**

 

 _Hangman is comin' down from the gallows and I don't have very long._

* * *

 

Stardate 47634.44

July 1st 2020

8:00 am

 

Bulma was nervous. She left the Captain’s office and made her way down the narrow hallway with as much authority as she could muster. She was in a position of power, but she sure didn't feel like it. A special assignment. She couldn’t exactly refuse. The Captain and her advisors outranked Bulma on the ship, but she was the Chief Science Officer and the primary consultant for their mission. This meant that any decision made on the ship with more importance than general maintenance _had_ to go through her. All of this coupled with the rising tensions between the military officers of the Earth’s Special Forces and the Capsule Corporation affiliates, her constant anxiety was palpable.

 

As Bulma walked down the winding corridors she watched the crew move about. She was reminded of just how fragile their alliance was. For the most part everyone on the ship did their best to work together and stay out of trouble. But there could always be that one _officer_ , one glance, or one comment that would send the fragile alliance hurtling out the airlock, taking their mission’s chance of success with it.

 

They had travelled well out of the way of Galactic Alliance territory to follow her maps and they were still several days away from their first stop. If she was being honest, she wasn’t even sure if she was reading the maps correctly. Anticipation fluttered around her chest everytime she thought about it. _This_ could be the breakthrough in her research she had been searching for in the empty stars. Planets. Seven planets, spread far throughout this galaxy and possibly the next. More than that though, there was something magical about them.

 

Chewing on her lip vigorously she stood outside the door to the brig but she found herself unable to go inside and unable to turn tail and run, as if held there by some invisible force. Breathing in deep she pressed her hand to the door pad and felt the gentle _whoosh_ of crisp air as it opened.

 

Easy assignment. The intruder was already detained. She just needed to talk to him. He had said nothing since his capture. All the captain wanted was for Bulma to interrogate the prisoner and find out how he had broken into the ship Bulma had so carefully designed. She didn’t have to torture him, didn't even have to come within five feet of him. Safe and sound with a high voltage barrier between the two of them.

 

Easy enough, right?

 

She couldn't help but think of the tales she had heard of him and his companion and the havoc and utter chaos they had caused. Accounts varied from person to person but from what she had gathered in the chaos of their boarding of the ship, his companion had been killed. Per quarantine procedures set up by the Capsule’s chief medical officer, her body would be disposed of. The risks were simply too high. Meanwhile he had been detained for further questioning.

 

_Just breathe and act like you know what you’re doing._

 

_Okay?_

 

_Okay._

 

Bulma strode confidently into the circular bay of holding cells. Had the captain not asked her to come down as a “personal favor" she would have avoided the situation entirely. Who was _she_ to get involved in military business? She was just a scientist, after all. It was really none of her business anyway as long as they weren’t derailed from their mission.

 

She looked around taking in the painfully bright white lights that showered everything in a soft glow and the high pitched humming that reverberated in the back of her teeth and ears. It all felt so sterile. This was only her second visit down to the detainment bay, the first had been a quality check before initial take off. It had been affectionately deemed “The Brig" and known to Earth’s Special Forces officers as the “Ship’s Detainment Units" and had never held anything more exotic than a certain unruly lieutenant that needed to sleep off a night of drinking.

 

Five cells wrapped in a semicircle around the edges of the room leaving the rest of it open for the guard that stood duty. It was designed so one officer could view all cells at all times from a safe distance. It sat empty, as it had for most of the journey, except for one cell and one ensign.

 

Smoothing her hands over her uniform, she cleared her throat, and stepped forward. Part of her wished Goku was there with her butl89 mmm she knew better. Bulma had insisted Goku stay behind, much to his dismay. He was simply too excited about the prisoner to be useful and would only get in the way. He seemed more interested in sparring or making friends with the intruder than getting valuable information. Such as _why are you here, where are you from, what is your name, how the Hell did you get on my ship?_

 

The ensign looked more than a little surprised to see her. “Oh….Dr. Briefs.” he stood stiff, straightening his pips and wiping his hands on the side of his uniform. He smiled sheepishly at her. “What brings you down here, sir?”

 

“I'm here on special assignment from the captain to interrogate the prisoner.” Bulma stated, waving nonchalantly.

 

“Oh. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Should be able to get pretty close Dr. Briefs. He's asleep now. Not surprised after the fight he put up, they doped him up pretty good just to get him in here. He hasn't made much trouble in here since we upped the security measures, but still I’d be wary after what happened.” the ensign cautioned, holding his hands behind his back at attention, he was still shifting nervously.

 

She redirected the conversation with authority in her voice.

 

“What is all of _this?_ ” she gestured to the table in front of the ensign. A small computer pad rested on the right hand corner. The rest of the table was draped in a dirty, deep red cloth. It looked charred and thin, eaten away by moths and the twiddling fingers of time. Sitting atop the cloth was an arsenal of primitive-looking weapons. An array of ancient, rusty firearms, what appeared to be makeshift explosives, two bandoliers, several knives, a small axe of some sort, and lots and lots of ammunition. There must have been at least fifteen weapons, not including the ammo. The ensign held a curious piece in his hand.

 

“Oh. Yes, sir. These are the weapons we managed to confiscate from the prisoner. We believe these to be all of them.”

 

“And _that_?”

 

“We don't know, sir. It was on the face of his companion. I think it's some sort of communication device but we don't know how it works.”

 

“May I?” stretching out her hand, she smiled at him.

 

Smirking she turned the piece over and over in her hands.

 

 _Huh._ _What a strange device, for a strange fellow._ She thought, stepping casually closer to the holding cell.

 

She watched him for a time. He was small and young. Probably her same age, and about her height as well. His right eye was swollen shut and dried blood speckled his face and arms. He was thin but muscular. The boy was handsome, with rich olive skin marred by pink and white scars. His ears were slightly taller than hers, sticking out from his mess of dark, spiky hair, with childish bangs that partially covered his eyes. His ears twitched ever so slightly as she stepped closer. The prisoner didn't _look_ very intimidating. He had certainly taken a beating.

 

The prisoners clothes were a curiosity as well. He wore cargo pants, close-fitting and generously adorned with pockets and patches. They were tucked into large wooly-looking socks and a pair of well-worn, muddy boots. A utility belt slung around his slender waist, another across his chest. Layers of dirty ragged shirts, the top being a royal blue hugged close to his trim form. It nestled inside a faded vest, adorned with strange patches and many pockets as well. His chin dipped down under the edges of the scarlet red bandana around his neck. On his hands he wore dingy, white gloves. They had lines of designs in the fabric, almost like circuits.

 

What an incredibly odd-looking man. His choice of clothing was strange, sure. He looked like some sort of old movie pirate or cowboy...kind of both?

 

The weapons, the clothes, they were curiosities but they were not what she found most fascinating about him. Wrapped tightly around his waist, curling about his thin frame was a slender, furry tail. It twitched in tandem with his ears to every movement she made as she paced casually in front of his cell.

 

She had overestimated how terrifying the monster alien would be. Almost laughing at herself for having pictured a 7 ft tall, giant of a man with bony ridges on his face or something along the like. He was the opposite, he was….he was almost _cute._

 

He leaned against the wall casually, slumped on the bare bed in the holding cell, his ankles crossed. He looked more like he was taking an afternoon nap under a tree than sitting in a holding cell in an alien vessel in the far reaches of space, his entire body seemed relaxed except for his furrowed eyebrows.

 

He wasn't sleeping at all. He was _listening_.

 

“I know you're not asleep.” She mused, taking a playful step forward and smirking.

 

No response.

 

“My name is Dr. Briefs and I’m very interested in finding out how you got on my ship.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Why have you come aboard the Capsule?”

 

The man’s nose twitched slightly and he reached up to scratch it. Still leaning casually against the wall, he acted as though he could not hear her at all.

 

No one ignored Bulma and got away with it. She was beginning to feel annoyed. On top of being a raging weirdo, he was also _rude._

 

“I’m not leaving until you say something. I can spend all night here, talking. In fact, I’m quite good at talking.”

 

“Kapugi lou guku, suga. E kiga lo’u ulu.*” He grumbled at her, his rough voice a stark contrast from the delicate sounds that played off his tongue.

 

She almost took a step back but caught herself.

 

_Oh…...OH._

 

She suddenly felt very foodlish. She had never considered that he might not speak or understand Galactic Common. They _were_ in the far reaches of the galaxy, after all. It was entirely plausible that he didn’t understand her at all.

 

“Do you...do you understand what I’m saying?” she said with newfound thoughtfulness, crossing her hands in front of her.

 

The prisoner growled a deep guttural growl letting his head drop towards her and rest on his shoulder, slowly opening his eyes. They were dark and haunting like deep, open space. Large canines slipping over his bottom lip, as he sneered.

 

At a first glance he looked human, but he most certainly was not. He was something else entirely. But what? She had never seen an alien species so similar to her own before and at the same time he felt unfamiliar.

 

He fascinated her. She wanted to ask him a thousand questions and a thousand more. But that certainly wasn’t going to work if they didn’t speak the same language.

 

“Are you hungry or thirsty?” she questioned slowly.

 

“Tzch.” was his only response, and with that he turned his head towards the wall.

 

She turned to the Special Forces officer. “How long has he been here?”

 

He pulled up the pad from the table and pressed rapidly on the screen. “17 hours, sir.”

 

“Has he been given food and water?”

 

“Uh…..” Again the ensign turned to the pad, running through the logs. “No, sir.”

 

“How incredibly hospitable of us.” disdain dripped from her voice as she watched the man in the cell shimmy down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around himself, his back still turned to her. “Did someone order that or are we just neglectful?”

 

The officer cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, sir. It was not ordered.”

 

“Have food sent down here for him, right away.” she paused, waiting for a nod of affirmation. “Thank you, ensign. That will be all.” and with that she tugged on her uniform top, turned on her heels, and walked brusquely out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Stardate 47634.44

July 1, 2020

4:00 pm

 

Bulma did not know how long she had been decoding maps and deciphering code but it was long enough that her neck ached, and her eyes burned. She set down the pad and let her heavy head fall into her hands. She hadn’t made any progress anyways, everytime she felt she had hit her stride her thoughts wandered back through the winding hallways, down to The Brig and plunged into the dark, deep eyes of the alien.

 

She needed a break. Goku had always been particularly good at distracting her, especially when she hadn’t wanted him to. She could use a good distraction right about now. Lightly she tapped the Capsule Corp lapel pin on the breast pocket of her uniform.

 

“Goku.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Goku.”

 

Again. Nothing.

 

She rolled her eyes. It was so typical of him if he hadn’t lost the damn communicator he had left it somewhere.

 

“Mother.” she spoke to the empty room and waited for the computer to respond.

 

The smooth computerized voice floated through the air. “How can I assist you today, Miss Bulma?”

 

“Mother, I need you to locate Goku.”

 

“Son Goku is in The Lookout.”

 

“Of course he is.”

 

* * *

 

Bulma marched into the Lookout of the ship, out for blood.

 

The ship’s mess hall was less of a cafeteria and more like a casual restaurant and bar. It had been aptly named. At the upper layer of the ships dome, it had a 360 degree view of the vastness of space.

 

It was open 24 hours a day and someone could always be found eating a meal or nursing a drink. Goku was almost always one of those people, if you could call what he did ‘eating’ and not something more accurate, like ‘devouring’.

 

She found him hunched over a plate of flapjacks drowning in syrup and he was shovelling them into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. She stood in front of him, head cocked and arms folded. She cleared her throat. He looked up, eyes wide and face bright.

 

“Hey dork. What are you doing?”

 

He swallowed the mouthful of pancakes and chased them down with half a glass of milk, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.

 

“Oh hey Bulma.” he smiled brightly. He was a wreck as always. She was angry, she wanted to stay angry but she just couldn’t. Goku never meant any harm by his negligence, he was simply distracted.

 

She pulled back the seat and spun it around leaning forward into the back of the chair and resting her chin on her arms.

 

“I saw the prisoner.” Goku instantly stopped eating.

 

“Yeah?” he leaned forward, a mouthful of pancakes muffling his words. “What was he like? Is he strong?”

 

“Well, I don’t know about that. He didn’t _look_ very strong. He looked more like a starving, dirty child.”

 

“Child? How old is he?” Goku questioned, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly.

 

“If I had to guess I’d say our age but I wouldn’t know.” she let her arms fall to her sides in exasperation. “Here’s the thing Son. He doesn’t speak Common and I have no idea whether or not he understands any of it.”

 

“Oh.” Goku’s face fell into a confused pout. “That is a problem, isn’t it?” he swallowed hard, chasing the pancakes down with the rest of his milk.

 

Goku leaned forward again. “So. Whatcha gonna do about it Bulma?”

Before she could respond her communicator beeped. She tapped gently on the lapel pin and spoke. “Dr. Briefs.”

 

“Yes. Dr. Briefs. This is Ensign Kim. The doctor has prepared the intruders belongings for you.”

 

“Roger that.” she muttered and let her hands drop into her face.

 

Bulma peered at Goku through her fingers and sighed heavily before swinging her legs off the chair and standing up. She pulled on the hem of her uniform top and forced a smile.

 

“Well, wish me luck.”

* * *

 

Stardate 96104.19

July 3rd 9:15 am

 

Bulma could still see her face when she closed her eyes. It haunted her. They were intruders on the ship and the officers had been justified in the capture and death of the aliens. But she couldn’t help but feel a twang of guilt. They had disposed of all clothing the intruder wore as well. Anything that could possibly transmit disease. It had been over 24 hours after the rest of it had been decontaminated.

 

She hugged the armful of bobbles closer to her chest. They smelled familiar, like engine grease, singed cotton, and sweat.

 

She couldn’t think about it now. It would do no one any good.

 

Bulma pressed her elbow against the door pad and entered into utter chaos.

 

The guards were standing alert and tesne, shouting for the prisoner to back away from the forcefield. The prisoner was growling and pacing. The growl so deep it seemed more like a wolf than a person. His tail whipping back and forth behind him like an angry cat. He seemed to hold everyone in the room taut on some invisible string as he moved back and forth gracefully.It was so strong she could almost smell it, taste it. He roared at the guards who had their phase guns at the ready. Though he was still contained in the forcefield, they seemed terrified that that would not be the case for much longer.

 

She straightened herself with a self-satisfied smirk and marched forward with the tray of food.

 

“Scream all you want, buddy. You're not getting out of there until I _let you out_. I designed and built these cells myself. I’m the best goddamned engineer in the galaxy.” she marched past the stunned guards standing to meet his gaze, her free hand resting on her hip. “This force field can withstand more physical damage than you can dish out, I’m sure of that. It is impenetrable.”

 

She crossed her arms in smug satisfaction and he stopped. His eyes bore into her. His gaze draining all of the confidence from her bones.  She could feel the hatred seeping from his body.

 

Suddenly his head cocked to the side, almost in a subtle move of idle curiosity. He stepped forward and bore his teeth. It was barely more than a whisper.

 

“Fiapoko, le kama’ikeige.** **”** a moment of tense silence was broken and she jumped back, throwing her arms over her face as he slammed his forearms into the forcefield. The prisoner held them steady as the electricity crackled and sparked around him, threatening to throw his body backwards. “Se’iloa...”

 

She had underestimated him. Any other man would have been on the floor writhing in pain but he stood there, unwavering. And it was in that moment she saw what the guards had always seen. There was a raw savagery in his eyes that frightened her and though they didn't speak the same language the message was clearly understood. He wanted to kill her, to kill all of them and if he ever got out he would do just that.

 

She approached with new fire in her eyes. Her throat was suddenly, unbearably dry.

 

“I brought these for you. They belonged to your friend.”

 

“Pasili.” his mask of anger cracked for just a moment and for a moment, just a moment Bulma could see the crashing waves of pain underneath. As soon as it had fallen, it returned. “Pe ke aumai ai iake a’u, pe e ke fa’amimika?***”

 

Bulma shifted the tray in her arms and gestured to the warm meal she had brought with her. “Oh. I also brought you some more food. I heard you didn’t eat the last meal that was brought down. Is that because you’re worried it’s poisoned?”

 

“Leai. Lakou ke le’i aumai le ipu. E ui i lea, ‘ai ‘ua o’oga lava.+" he sneered looking at the officer on duty with venom.

 

“Well, if you are...it’s not. See?” she took a slice of pear from the tray and popped it in her mouth. “I mean, it’s not the best food. It’s grown in our hydroponics bay so it doesn’t really compare to fresh fruit from Earth but it’s edible. That’s for sure. I mean, as long as you’re not trying the meatloaf.” she chuckled and smiled at him sweetly. Bulma turned to the officer on duty taking note of the number of ranking pips on his collar.

 

“Lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Give these to our guest please.” She turned to leave but his nervous hum stopped her. “What is it?”

 

“Well sir, Ensign Bronsen and I were unable to lower the forcefield safely.”

 

Bulma’s face dropped instantly into a scowl. “So you’re telling me you boneheads were too afraid to lower the field and pass the tray inside so you just _didn’t give him food and water?_ ”

 

“Well…”

 

“My god.” She grabbed the tray and the odds and ends left on the table and stomped over to the holding cell.

 

“You do understand how this works, don’t you?” The officer said nothing but watched with a look of shame as she slid the tray through the forcefield effortlessly on the ground.

 

“The force field is programmed to be omnidirectional but you can reverse the polarity and pass things through it. Look.”

 

The prisoner hesitated for a moment before crossing his ankles and dropping to the floor. His legs crossed and right hand leaning into his knee so his elbow stuck up in the air. He began to shovel food into his mouth.

 

“Poor thing must be starving.” something inside of her ached. She turned to leave, stopping beside the officer without taking her eyes off the door. “The Captain will hear of this.”

 

And with that she was gone.

 

* * *

Stardate 96118.1

July 8th 11:15 am

 

Bulma sat on the walkway that overlooked the promenade. Her feet dangling over the edge as she leaned heavily into the railing.

 

She was deep in her thoughts, thick and heavy they sloshed around in her brain causing her skull to thump and her head to ache. What was she going to do with the prisoner? More importantly, what was the captain going to do with him? Against Bulma’s recommendations she had sent out a beacon with the prisoners information and image.

 

Only time would tell if anything came of it. For now they had rerouted to Rura Penthe to drop him off. A galactic detainment facility of sorts.

 

She couldn't get his face out of her head, his deep eyes, his ferocious growl that shook her ribs and curled up her spine.

 

Bulma was more than lost in thought, she was drowning in it.

  


She hadn't noticed Goku drop down beside her until she felt a hand resting on her shoulder. Goku peered at her from behind a dark mop of messy hair, eyebrows knit together in concern.

 

“You alright Bulma?”

 

She sighed.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” he questioned tenderly.

 

“No. Not really Goku.” she leaned further on the metal railing, resting her chin on it and muttering through clenched teeth.

 

Goku didn't know many things but he knew Bulma. And he knew that that meant yes.

 

He gave her a thoughtful grin. And her carefully painted facade melted, running down her cheeks like rain on a window.  
  
“He’s not a monster, he’s just a kid. His name is ‘Vesita’” Bulma struggled with the sounds in the name - they didn’t quite have the right letters for it in Galactic Common. “anyway, we’re diverting to take him to what is essentially a concentration camp.”   
  
“Vegeta, eh?” Goku mused, blissfully butchering the phonetics, “I heard about how he fought when we were boarded. If he’s only a kid I would love to fight him when he grows up”

 

Bulma proceeded to tell him everything. She talked about the beacon, about the response, about the fact that they had found prisoner in a database of  wanted criminals. How the captain refused to budge on her decision about the boy. All of it. After she finished she rested her cheek against the cool metal of the railing and sighed in exasperation.

 

Goku thought for a moment and then let his head fall on her shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry, I know it’ll all work out.” He said sweetly. She turned her head over to lean against his.

 

“That's the thing Goku. I don't.”

 

He smiled at her. It was so pure and so innocent. A smile without a care in the world.

 

“You’ll see.” and with that he left, leaving Bulma with her thoughts.

 

* * *

Stardate 96118.1

July 8th 8:54 pm

 

Bulma set the tray of food down reverently and pushed it over the lip of the forcefield and into the holding cell. Again the prisoner dropped to the floor, legs crossed, hand on his knee and elbow in the air. He bent over the tray shoveling food into his mouth hungrily.

 

“I have news for you.” her voice was meek and tender. She could see his ears twitch. He had noticed the difference in her tone and he stopped eating to look at her with dark, curious eyes. “You are being transferred to a detainment facility where you will await your trial.” she knew he couldn’t understand her but part of her wished he would. She needed him to. “Rura Penthe is…” she swallowed hard. “It is a penal colony and unlike me, they will do whatever is necessary to get their answers. The ‘trial’ you have scheduled, will not be fair - if you even survive long enough. Most don’t. They put a beacon out and got a message back. It seems someone has been looking for you. Someone by the name of Frieza.”

 

The prisoner dropped what he held in his hand and instinctively pulled himself back, knees curling up to his chest. He looked at her with a mix of confusion, anger, and fear as his chest fluttered like a bird. Bulma couldn’t help but feel a pang at his distress. The name must have meant something to him.

 

“Frisa...” his voice lingered on the final vowel, slowly trailing off.

 

She turned on her heels, eyes locked with the man inside the holding cell. She felt sick to her stomach. He was a war criminal. A murderer. She shouldn’t feel bad for handing him over. Should she?

 

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat that threatened to crush her words. “Lieutenant how long until we reach Rura Penthe?” her eyes never left the prisoner as she spoke. The soldier looked down at his pad.

 

“26 hours, sir.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

And with that she spun on her heels and marched out of The Brig.

 

That night Bulma dreamt of the prisoner.

  


She awoke in a cold sweat, bolting upright in bed. She looked out on the fine white lines that flew past her window as they moved at warp speed. She was never going to get her answers. But it was more than just her curious mind that left her unsettled. This man, this murderer in her brig. He would be put to death for his crimes, whether they were his or not., Bulma had done some reading about Rura Penthe and the ‘criminal justice’ system it represented, if you could call it that. It seemed like all one had to do for a one way ticket to hell in that place was be accused of a crime, let alone actually commit one.

 

She didn’t bother to put on her uniform or slip into shoes instead she simply pulled the blanket from her bed as she tumbled to the ground. Grabbing the items she left on her nightstand she left her room. Quietly padding through the tunnel hallways, her mind wandered as she watched her shadow dance across the bulkheads in the blue running lights.

 

She tried not to think about what she was doing, and even more so, what it may mean. She had been speaking to the prisoner for days on end, and he had said nothing more than the occasional grunt, groan, or handful of words she didn't understand. She had spent nearly all her waking hours in the Brig with him and tomorrow he would be gone.

 

Bulma entered the Brig, the light that illuminated the underneath of the holding cell beds provided a soft blue glow to the room. She took a breath and padded over to sit outside his cell.

 

It was the first time he had slept since arriving onboard nearly 48 hours ago. But it wasn't a lulling, peaceful slumber. It was fitful,feverish, and full of twitches and growls. His eyebrows knit tight, as beads of sweat trickled down his face and his arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

 

Bulma watched him for a time. She wondered what he dreamt of. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. She wanted to lower the field, to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and wake him from his fitful slumber but she couldn’t.

 

He jolted awake like he had been shocked. His breathing rapid and shallow, his dark eyes rolled around the room searching his surroundings.

 

She watched as he stood from under the cot rolling his neck and shoulders and made his way to take a drink from the jug of water that had been left for him.

 

“Se a lava le mea e maga’o iai le keige...++” he muttered through a stifled yawn.

 

“I wish I could understand you.” she lamented thoughtfully.

 

“Leai, e ke le maga’o iai.+++” He scoffed.

 

Bulma paused before continuing. “The strangest thing happened...”

 

She waited, as she always did, for him to say anything. Looking across the empty room and rubbing her feet back and forth on the short, rough carpeted floor.

 

But silence greeted her. She leaned her head against the cold metal frame feeling the hum of the forcefield reverberate in the base of her skull. She never realised just how very cold and dark it got in The Brig at night. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, and curled the left side of her body against the wall that separated them. She snuck a glance inside. The prisoner was curled up in the far right-hand corner of the small holding cell tucked neatly underneath the bed again.

 

He was so small and so young. And he was filthy, battered and bruised. Whoever he was….whatever had made him into what he was... he was a criminal, a trespasser, a prisoner. She didn't know him, didn't know anything about him, but she felt like she did. She picked at the plastic edge of the tray of food she had brought, letting her thumb nail catch on the seam of the mold.

 

“...I...I dreamt about you.”

 

He grunted and she watched with idle curiosity as his tail slithered across the floor and wrapped tightly around his waist as his arms hugged his chest closer.

 

She _knew_ he was listening even though everything indicated otherwise.

 

“I wish you understood me. If you could just tell me. Tell me the truth…” she trailed off and sighed locking her fingers inbetween her toes and resting the side of her head on her knees. “They’re going to hand you over tomorrow and that Lord Frieza is going to kill you.” she wiped the tears from her face, unable to fathom exactly why she was crying.

  


* * *

 

Stardate 96117.63

July 9th 7:05 am

 

Bulma stood beside the captain on the bridge as the view screen activated and cut out the view of space and the single ship in the distance. A man with feminine features appeared on the screen. He wore extravagant armor, his hair in a long braid the color of emeralds.

 

“Captain Schmidt, I presume.”

 

The woman next to Bulma nodded, clutching her hands behind her back. “Yes, you must be Lord Frieza. We were not expecting you for another twelve hours.”

 

“Lord Frieza was unable to meet with you and sends his deepest regrets. Something has come up and I have been sent in his place to rendezvous and retrieve the prisoner. You’ll find our authorization codes check out.” a slippery smile played across his lips. He wasn’t trying to hide his grin of satisfaction. Whoever the prisoner was, this man did not like him. Not one bit.

 

“Standby for docking.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you suppose they would even use this for?” Bronson asked as he turned a metal ball in his hand, fingering the loose ring that stuck out the top.

 

“Honestly Bronson? I have no idea.”

 

The prisoner scoffed as the two guards proceeded to examine his weapons stash with curiosity and eager eyes.

 

_Valea._

 

“Fa’aekeeke, e ogo lavea o oukou maka makagofie...^” he cautioned smugly turning over and snuggling into the hard mattress pad. He would never admit it but he had slept better here in the holding cells of an alien ship than he had since he was a child. He began to drift off to sleep when he smelled something.

 

Before he felt anything, heard anything, he could _smell_ it. It wafted through the air like the scent of death itself. It smelled like white musk and swamp water.

 

_Zarbon._

 

Something was very wrong. Before he had time to work it out the bright lights, the Brig exploded in a shower of sparks and fine shards of glass, raining down on the officers and the prisoner. In an instant the ship exploded into chaos. With that, the guards were gone screaming into their lapel communicators and pulling their stun guns free from their holsters.

 

The prisoner smirked, rolling his shoulders and ran his hand through his loose bangs pushing them back into his mess of hair. He stepped over the threshold where the forcefield had been and into the darkness of the Brig.

 

_O le’a malie lava.^^_

 

* * *

 

Bulma ran as fast as her legs could take her but she couldn’t run fast enough.

 

Goku? Where was Goku? She pressed on her badge and prayed to the Gods that Goku had his communicator.

 

“Son. Son Goku.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Goku.”

 

“Bulma?” There was so much static and chaos she could barely understand it. But it was him. She nearly fell to the ground in relief. She needed him now more than ever. She was terrified.

 

This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t happening.

 

But the dead eyes of the ensign laying sprawled in the hallway said otherwise. She couldn’t deny reality as much as she begged herself to.

 

“Goku, Goku. It was a trap. It was all a trap.”

 

“Bulma. I need you to calm down. Breathe, ok? We are going to make it. I won’t let anything happen to you. Where are you?”

 

“I’m...I’m on Deck C.”

 

“Okay. I found Yamcha. He was hit pretty bad. We’re on our way to the pods. Can you meet us there?”

 

Yeah. Yeah she could do that. She was halfway there. All she had to do was survive the chaos and explosions and hide from the boarding party long enough to get to the escape pods. She wasn't going to die like this and she definitely wasn't going to die today. No. With newfound vigor she ran to the wall computer and rapidly pulled up the mechanical status map of the ship. She had about six minutes before hull integrity breached.

 

Damn it.

 

Power was out on nearly all Decks. Only Deck B still had power. Deck B. Oh god. The prisoner.

 

She couldn’t leave him there, could she? When she closed her eyes she could almost see him, his dark eyes filled with panic and fear trying to smash his way out as the ship fell to pieces around him. Nothing he could do but await his own death. Could she kill a murderer? Was he even a murderer? The rendezvous had been a set-up. Was he a criminal at all?  No, she didn’t need to rescue him or help him evade whatever justice it was he deserved. But she couldn’t leave him to die. She would just free him and then he was no longer her responsibility, right? Right. He would have to find his own way off the ship. She grappled with herself as she ran towards the Brig. She just had to put in her code to override the forcefield and then she would leave him and meet Goku at the escape pod. Bulma tried to breathe as she pulled open the doors to the Brig. It took all her strength to wedge them open far enough to squeeze through. It was pitch black inside.

 

She threw her arms out in front of her, panting quietly and groping the darkness for any point of reference. She bumped into the table, her hands sprawled out to catch herself she felt around.

 

_Empty._

 

There was nothing on the table. The hundreds of bullets and weapons were just... _gone._ Something wriggled up through the pit of her stomach and threatened to scream. She tried not to hyperventilate as she stepped backwards slowly towards the crack in the Brig doors.

 

She heard voices outside the door… and raucous laughter, they were getting closer. Frieza’s soldiers.

 

Terror vibrated in her bones and made her feel dizzy and weak. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry but all she could do was stand there, paralyzed, while a quiet whimper escaped her. Bulma tried to scream but felt a rough hand wrap around her mouth and pull her backwards.  Arms wrapped tight around her writhing body, she screamed into the hand and felt lips against her ear.

 

“Shhh-hhhh-hh. If you want to live, Soesa, you will be quiet.” His harsh voice was oddly soothing.

 

“Got it?” He whispered to her. And it prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and dripped down to his rough hand.  

 

She nodded. She would be quiet. With one hand he casually pushed the Brig doors open and they stepped out into the chaos and the darkness.

 

Clearly the prisoner had better vision than she did. He moved around the bodies and rubble with grace and speed she had never seen before, all the while pulling her along behind him. She tripped and stumbled and struggled to keep up and stay quiet. Suddenly he stopped.

 

“Tsch.” he shushed her, throwing his arm against her chest and shoving her against the wall. A single light flickered in the darkness down the hall, occasionally showering sparks and illuminating the hallway in flashes. She could hear marching and voices.

 

Someone was coming. More of Frieza’s soldiers came running from both ends of the hallway. One particularly large alien with horns stepped out first. He saw the prisoner and chuckled.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Vegeta.”

 

She watched his ears twitch. Pulling his arm from her chest he slid them down his side silently.

 

The prisoner pulled the two guns from the holsters on his hips, spinning them with a flourish and smirking. He strode forward into the dark with a confident, wide stride. He burst into action, crossing his arms and fired the guns. Hitting his marks and dropping two soldiers. The prisoner straightened his crossed arms and fired again. Two more shots and two more bodies fell into the rubble of the hallway.

 

Tossing one of his guns into the air, he pulled a long knife from his boot and whipped around to face the soldier behind Bulma. He threw the knife into the dark and it hit its target with a heavy _thuck_ and a groan _._ He casually caught his firearm and swiftly began to reload it.

 

Snarling, he broke into a sprint directly at the soldier who stood paralyzed, a long knife protruding from his abdomen. The prisoner dropped to the ground and slid between his legs pulling the handle of his knife downward and out. The soldier’s guts spilled to the floor with a sickening _plop_.

 

The last soldier spoke, his once smug confidence had withered into fear.

 

“Now Vegeta, Lord Frieza just wants to speak to you.” he laughed nervously.

 

The prisoner whipped around, still leaning on one knee, the other to his chest as he crouched forward. He spun the knife in his hand and with a flick of his wrist it was gone. Bulma tried to follow the movement as the knife whizzed past her in the dark hallways but she couldn’t. She found it sticking from the soldier’s forehead. Before she could process what was happening, the prisoner grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her down the hallway.

 

“Wa-wait. The escape pods are that way.” she pointed desperately in the other direction pulling against his grip. He stopped and looked at her as she motioned the other way. He gestured for her to lead and they look off towards the escape pods.

 

It wasn’t long before Vegeta, frustrated with Bulma’s skittishness, took back the lead, content to occasionally pause and shoot a glance at her that she easily understood as him asking which direction to head next. They were lucky to avoid any other altercations, but the screams that echoed through the hallways made Bulma’s skin crawl. Judging by how human the majority of the screaming was, she figured the crew wasn’t as successful as Vegeta had been in fending off Frieza’s men.

 

After what seemed like hours but also seconds, they made it to the launch bay.   


“We have to go back. We have to wait for Goku. He’s on his way. We can’t leave.”

 

“It’s too late, Soesa. Your friends are dead.” he responded coolly.   
  
Not a single shuttle had been launched. No one else had made it this far. Maybe he was right.   
  
Boarding the nearest shuttle, Vegeta went straight for the controls. He paused, his hands hovering in the air above the expansive touch-screen that lay in front of him.

 

“Oh, move over!” Bulma said. “You know, for a super space monkey you’re hopeless.” She shoved her body into his, displacing him as she sat down. She wasted no time in powering up the engines and rushing through the takeoff sequence.  
  
They had barely cleared the launch bay when a beam of brilliant energy shot past their bow. Bulma jumped in her chair before launching into a litany of curses.   
  
“Are they shooting at us?” she screamed. “Who do they think they are trying to sho-”

 

“Show me how to fly this thing or we are going to die, Soesa.” He was watching her hands intently as she flew the shuttle.

 

“Would you stop calling me that? My name is Bul-”  
  
“I don’t care. That’s clearly the impulse control, where does one adjust pitch and yaw?”

 

“You lied to me.” She chided, as she pointed to a section of the controls “It’s here. Pretty straight-forward.”

 

“I did not. And what about entry and landing controls?”  
  
“They’re over here, just select the component on the shuttle’s diagram and it will automatically start the necessary sequence. It’s designed to be intuitive so even untrained individuals can use them in a pinch. Wait, why do you need to know about land-”   
  
The last thing she felt was a sharp pain in the back of her head and then Bulma felt nothing at all.

 

“Fa’afetai.^^^”  


* * *

* * *

 

 

AN: Thanks for reading everyone. We can’t wait to post the future chapters. We’re sticking pretty close to my original publishing schedule of around midnight MST on Saturday nights.

 

Hanko and I can’t wait for you to see what is in store!

 

As always thanks to my valiant copy editors and to HellsBells9000 for beta-reading this for me. You are truly my sweet summer peach.

* * *

 

*Kapugi lou guku, suga. E kiga lo’u ulu.

  * Shut your mouth, girl. You’re making my head hurt



**Fiapoko, le kama’ikeige….Se’iloa...

  * The girl is *pretentious…. We’ll see…



***Pasili...Pe ke aumai ai iake a’u, pe e ke fa’amimika?

  * Basil, are you giving that to me, or are you bragging?



+Leai. Lakou ke le’i aumai le ipu. E ui i lea, ‘ai ‘ua o’oga lava.

  * No. They haven’t brought me the dish. Nevertheless, it’s probably poisoned.



++Se a lava le mea e maga’o iai le keige...

  * What does the girl want now….?



+++Leai, e ke le maga’o iai.

  * No, you don’t want it/that



^Fa’aekeeke, e ogo lavea o oukou maka makagofie...

  * Careful, you might hurt your pretty faces…



^^O le’a malie lava. 

  * This’ll be fun/entertaining



^^^Fa’afetai.

  * Thank you.




	4. Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

**ROGUE PLANET**

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: AIN’T NO SUNSHINE WHEN SHE'S GONE**

* * *

 

_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone and this house just ain't no home, anytime she goes away._

 

* * *

  
  


It smelled of fire, dry earth, and hot sage.  A cacophony of crackling flames, singing insects, and...voices.

 

Bulma’s hazy mind began to reel. They must have crashed, been captured, or both. But her hands and legs didn’t feel like they were bound. She lay still trying to pick out the voices. Her head throbbed and her throat was unbearably dry. Her face was pressed into the cracked, red earth.

 

A harsh animated voice chuckled. “I’ve been saying it. For ten  _damn_  years I’ve been sayin’ it.”  

 

“Shut up you idiot. You have  _not_.” a husky grumble came from behind her.

 

“Well….how would any of  _y’all_ know anyways?” the first voice.

 

“Well we've been with you, for nearly ten years, Nappa.” a third voice, this one soft. A smooth female voice.

 

Someone else, this one, deep and meek. They must have been right beside her. “Hush you lot, you’ll wake her.”

 

“I still don’t know why we don’t just cook ‘er. It’s more meat than we’ve had in months. Better than these damned grubs anyway.” a second female voice with a heavy accent quipped.

 

Bulma thought she was going to be sick.

 

“You’re just on the prod ‘cause of Basil.” a young male snickered. “Why does it matter if we wake her, she’s been out long enough, somebody poke her with a stick.”

 

“I have a stick right here.” the first man chuckled, he was greeted by booming laughter and sighs of irritation.

 

“Pfft. If she knows what’s good for her she’ll kill herself before you get anywhere near her.” the angry woman spat.

 

“How would you know? You’ve only just pulled your head out of Basil’s thighs. Tell me, what’s it like to be back in the real world, Tschev?” the booming voice taunted.

 

“Hey, come now.” the meek voice tried to interject.

 

“Word is…” the shuffling of feet and then he began to whisper. “...you’re  _insatiable_. Why don’t you come over here and sit with ol’ Nappa, eh?” the first man chuckled.

 

The sound of metal striking wood was followed by guffaws and hooting laughter.

 

“Watch your tongue Nappa or I’ll cut it from your fat head and wear it on a necklace.” the woman again, this time her voice dripped with venom. She growled.

 

Laughter.

 

“Shut up, all of you.” a voice that hadn’t yet spoken.

 

 _That_  voice. Wait. Bulma  _knew_ that voice.

 

Suddenly her plan of playing dead had been thrown into the hot night winds. She tried her best to peel her eyes open.

 

The prisoner. He sat on a stump, his fingers knit together and his face resting against them, he stared into the flames of the roaring fire that sat between them. He was surrounded by others. Including him there were seven. All staring intently, leaning forward, ankles crossed, and hands resting on knees. They dressed like him, spoke like him...and they had tails  _just_  like his.

 

“You.” Bulma bolted upright and suddenly everything was silent. Only the symphony of the night insects and the cracking and splitting of the fire remained. Everyone stared at her in surprise, except for him. The former prisoner’s face split into a dark, twisted grin.

 

“Me.”

 

She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and strangle him but she could barely sit upright. It felt like fire had ripped through her eyes and her nose. As if the pressure would put the splintered pieces of her skull back together, Bulma wrapped her hands around the side of her head and cradled it, pulling her feet underneath her and looking around her.

 

In the glow of the light sat the seven strange aliens. Bulma looked at them and they stared back at her.

 

“Aw, tsk, tsk, le tama’i fuga* is afraid.” The angry woman mused. She was much smaller than Bulma’s imagination had made her out to be. “E kakau oga fa’alupeiga le keige.**” She pulled her knife from between the largest man’s leg, nearly splitting the seam of his pants in the process. He grumbled at her to watch herself. Licking the edge of the blade her lips pulled back into a grin as she walked closer to Bulma. Almost all of the men began to laugh.

 

“Soia! Tisevi, gofo la’ia.***” Vegeta barked and the woman’s grin turned to a scowl and slowly she returned to her seat, her eyes never leaving Bulma.

 

“Who  _are_  you people?” They all seemed to turn and look to Vegeta.

 

“I am Prince Vegeta. Tamali’i of the Saiyans, leader of the last of the Saiyan warriors...and also Stoks!” He stopped for a moment on account of the hooting laughter, one of the saiyans was obviously the butt of that joke, and the others were playfully, yet violently, smacking him in the back of the head, and on his shoulders. He seemed to take it in stride, smiling. Vegeta dropped one arm to his side while the other brandished the knife he had been toying with. “I am captain, and this is my crew. Napa, Ladisi, Padoko, Sitokisi, Lato, Tisevi.” With each name the blade tipped towards one of the aliens.

 

She took note of the names and assigned them to faces. R...rraditz...Badock, Bardock, maybe? Tschev… Bulma was brilliant but a linguist she was not. She resolved to do her best not to let them know she was struggling with the sounds under her breath.

 

“Well,  _Prince Vegeta_.” Bulma sneered with disgust. The big one, ‘Nappa’, Bulma mentally noted, chortled. “You owe me one hell of an explanation. How did we get here? Where is Goku? Where is the-” the words lodged in her throat as she remembered. The ship was little more than space dust now. The two of them were the only survivors. She blinked away the sting of tears and swallowed the dust in her throat. Her voice sounded hoarse and tired. “W-why did you bring me here?”

 

“Would you prefer I left you on the ship?” he mused darkly, a smile playing across his lips as he spun his knife in his hands playfully.

 

“What….what do you want from me?”

 

“You will fix  _our_  ship. Not too much of a task for the  _‘most brilliant engineer in the galaxy’, mmm?_ ” he smirked raising an eyebrow. He  _had_ been listening all along. “After that I don’t much care what you do.”

 

Anger and hatred welled up inside of her. She hated him for bringing her here, for everyone who she had lost. “So you think you can just kidnap me and strand me here and I’ll do what you say?”

 

“That’s the idea.” the young man with wild long hair laughed. Nappa stomped on his foot. “Oof.”

 

“I would rather die.” she spat.

 

Vegeta scoffed and stood, casually flipping the knife into the air before tossing it nonchalantly into a log near where he had been sitting.

 

“If you don’t, we all will.” and with one last captivating smirk he turned and disappeared into the darkness. Bulma could hear him say something in his own language and Nappa shouted back in response. Then all eyes returned to her.

 

After some loud conversation and laughter Nappa turned to the Saiyan crouching by the fire, stoking it.

 

“Stoks, you heard the Cap. Take care of the little woman, wilsya?”

 

Nappa stood, spitting into the fire and striding off. The others followed suit, speaking amongst themselves as they went. Only Stoks, Tschev and Bulma remained.

 

The last man to stand did so slowly, pushing on his knee with his one arm and rolling his shoulders. The entire left half of his body appeared to be covered in scars.  As he followed the crowd he turned to look back at Bulma.

 

“G-Goku?” She choked. Bulma jumped up to run after him. But Tschev blocked her path.

 

Tschev’s eyes had never left Bulma. Bulma was pretty sure she hadn’t even blinked. Stoks wiped his dirty hands on his ripped, worn pants and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand.

 

“Filemu, Tisevi. Amana’ia upu a le Tautai+.”

 

Tschev had a wide face with the most fierce eyes Bulma had ever seen. Three lines of dark soot trailed from one eye, down her cheek. The sides of her head were shaved and a wild, feathered mohawk fell across her forehead. She was curvy, muscular, and short, shorter than Bulma, anyway, but she had a presence that would make a grown man’s knees shake. Tschev’s eyes bore into Bulma as she spoke, spitting on the ground between them.

 

“For now, Stoks. But it won’t always be that way.” her lip curled back in disgust she bore her fangs at Bulma throwing the stick into the fire with such force it showered the ground with sparks. Bulma threw her arms up to shield her face. When she opened them again the woman was gone.

 

Stoks sighed. Rubbing his eyes, he gathered the large dented pot and several tin cups, and tucked it under his arm.

 

“Don’t mind her. She’s just angry about Pesili. You’re safe. Tisevi knows her place.”

 

“Beh...Bay...Basil?” the sounds were still awkward in Bulma’s throat.

 

“Mmm. Yes. She was killed.” he paused thoughtfully, casually scratching his jaw. “On your ship.”

 

Bulma’s heart sank.  _Oh._  She didn’t know what to say, the face of the Saiyan floating to the surface of her mind. “I...I’m sorry about her friend.”

 

“More than friends.” he smiled softly at her with tired eyes. “Lovers.”

 

Bulma wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say.

 

“But…” he grunted as he stood. “She was not the first to die and she will not be the last. Come Soesa. I’ll make a bed for you.”

 

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” She shouted. “That's not my name, you know? It's Bulma. Bul-ma.”

 

“Yes. Soesa. It means…” he crouched in front of her and flicked her nose with the knuckle of his forefinger playfully. “Hmmm… it means… annoying. Annoyance. That’s it.”

 

Then Stoks stood and followed in the direction the others had gone.

 

“Come  _Pulama._ " he made an odd squeal with his lips that sounded almost like a whistle or a squeak, pulling Vegeta’s knife from the stump as he went.

 

As soon as the fire had puttered out beneath the red earth Bulma was completely blind. She didn’t want to ask for help and she didn’t want to follow but her pride and confidence fizzled as quickly as the fire had. The darkness swallowed her and she flung her arms out desperately reaching for anything.

 

“Hey. Where do you think you’re going. You can’t just leave me here.” she called out.

Stoks laughed gently and a heavy hand grasped her shoulder squeezing it.

 

“Can’t see in the dark, mmm?”

 

“Can you?”

 

“Lucky for you, yes. Would never find anything to eat otherwise.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

Bulma felt him let go of her hand then felt a whoosh of air as a door to the ship opened. The light was so bright it was almost blinding.

 

“Because here, Pulama, it is always night.”

  


* * *

  


Bulma didn’t remember falling asleep. Her sinuses felt like someone had sliced through them with a fine blade and left them out in the sun to dry and shrivel. Her throat stuck to itself when she swallowed. To top it all off, she was unbearably sore and stiff. She rolled off the cot and pushed the rough, worn sheet off of her. She padded quietly across the tiny room. It was barely larger than a closet, stacks of junk made the room nearly impossible to navigate. She looked in a dingy mirror that hung sideways on the metal wall. She had shed her shoes and the outer layers of her uniform, wearing only her tank top, her cross, and her pants. She touched the cross thoughtfully. It had been her great-grandmother’s and her mother had given it to her the night before they left on the Capsule, saying it would bring her good luck and that if she wore it they would always be with her. But now no one was with her. She was completely and utterly alone.

 

By her calculations it had been nearly a week since her arrival, as best as she could guess considering the lack of a Sun, and she had still to leave the room. The only person she had seen was Stoks. He had visited her every morning and every night, bringing her meals, talking with her. He was the only part of her new life she enjoyed. He was a large, burly man but he was timid and sweet and thoughtful. When she had cried he had encouraged her to be kind to herself, give herself time. That was something Bulma had never been very good at. Patience.

 

This morning rolling out of bed she had steeled herself. Today was going to be different. She was done waiting around for someone to rescue her or Death to take her.

 

She pulled her sweaty, damp hair back into a bun as far away from her neck and skin as possible and stretched. She reached for the handle and hesitated. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door open. It creaked and scraped along the floor but with some effort she opened it.

  


The ship was clearly pieced together with parts of other ships, a Frankenstein’s monster spaceship of sorts. It looked like it barely held together on a wing and a prayer. The dark metal floors were covered in fine red dust and it coated her sweaty feet as she wound her way through the maze of twists and turns, exploring the ship that was now her prison. She ran her hands along the rough edges of the wall, feeling the textures of the metal sheets, different colors and different textures. Every so often she would step over a weapon or item of clothing. Random odds and ends seemed strewn about all the hallways and rooms of the ship.

 

It was the quiet that worried her.

 

It was a stark contrast to the Capsule, that was for sure. It was old and dingy and dark. Bulma hated everything about it. After some time, she came across what must have been a galley or mess hall of sorts. She stopped upon hearing the metal clang of heavy cookware. Peeking in, she saw Stoks in a kitchen, connected to the galley. In the long, narrow room there sat a large, ancient looking wooden table that was splintered over every inch of its surface. But Bulma’s attention was focused on the far wall. The east wall was covered from ceiling to floor in strange odds and ends. Everything from necklaces and knives to what appeared to be breastplate armor. Every item different. She was mesmerized by the odd decorations and found herself reaching out to trace her fingers along the edge of a breastplate in front of her.  
  
“Boo.” Bulma jumped with surprise as Nappa chortled behind her. “You’re gonna be just too much fun, Soesa.” He pushed past her and sat at the table. “Hey Stoks. Hurry it up, will ya?” Then, turning to Bulma, “Breakfast time.” He accented his statement with a grotesque slurp, indicating his appetite.   
  
It was as if Nappa had burst the floodgates, as the others started to pour in. For only six people they made noise enough for twenty. They all funnelled into the mess hall, with the exception of Vegeta. He was nowhere to be found.   
  
Bulma stood awkwardly, frozen where she was in the corner.

  
They laughed as much as they spoke, the volume increasing steadily over time as each conversation grew, presumably so they could be heard over one another, and the tangle of growing conversations. Each individual seemed to be in more than one conversation at once. Bulma was impressed that everyone seemed to keep track of everything, no one missing a beat. They leaned casually into the long, splintered table, each resting one elbow on the table.   
  
Tschev occasionally glanced up at Bulma and narrowed her eyes shooting her a glare that made Bulma’s skin crawl. Bulma tried her best to ignore her. As she watched them she noticed the other woman was the odd one out. Bulma tried to remember her name.  _Lato?_ She sat quietly, hands in her lap, at the end of the table, her long, thick hair pulled back into a low ponytail at her neck. She had smoother features than the others, and seemed much, much cleaner. Occasionally someone would try to include her in the conversation - not out of pity, it seemed, but just as a matter of course. Lato would respond briefly, making an obvious effort at a genuine smile or small laugh, before her expression returned to the same, relaxed look she seemed to keep by default. She seemed almost sad, which was a shocking contrast to the others.

 

It wasn’t long until Stoks came out of the kitchen. He saw Bulma and smiled sheepishly. It was encouraging to say the least. He made his way around the table balancing dishes with dexterity that would make the best waiters on Earth worry about their job security, and after a few whooping cheers, the most surprising thing of all happened - the Saiyans began to eat, which is to say, they stopped talking altogether. The silence except for the sound of the occasional utensil (they ate mostly with their hands) on a dish and the various gulping and swallowing was oddly relaxing. It reminded Bulma, once again, of Goku.  
  
Goku.

 

How could Bulma have forgotten? When she had met Goku as a child he had a tail, just like-No, it was impossible. And yet… he ate like them, looked almost exactly like one of them, in fact, and had a tail… exactly like them. She wondered if she should bring it up to Stoks at some point.  
  
Stoks had brought out enough food to feed at least a dozen people. Yet these six had devoured it in what could only have been a couple of minutes. Yup, the more she thought about it, the more they reminded her of Goku.   
  
She was lost in thought again when she heard Nappa’s voice pierce the odd sounds of eating that seemed like silence.   
  
“Yo Stoks. Bring out more.” Nappa banged on the table obnoxiously.

 

“There isn’t any more.” Stoks said, leaning on the bar that separated the kitchen from the galley. “I’ve got one biscuit left.” He said.  
  
“Oh ho ho... You know what that means!” Nappa yelled. “Let’s see who the lucky one is today.”   
  
Stoks sighed and disappeared into the kitchen. After a moment he returned with a biscuit in his hand, slamming it down in the center of the table. The Saiyans all went back and forth between staring at the biscuit and eyeing one another, as if they hadn’t just stuffed themselves with food and were in fact starving to death, expecting their shipmates to steal this, their only food from them.   
  
“One, two, three, GO.” Nappa yelled. Bulma expected a brawl, but was once again shocked as the Saiyans turned to one another and started...waving their hands at each other? They would occasionally accent their odd motions with a strange ‘ _ish_ ’ sound. Moans of defeat and hollers of victory continued every few seconds until the young, wild haired Raditz stood face to face with Lato.   
  
They each extended a hand and made a gesture. Lato lowered her hand, and the two paused. After a taught moment, with the eyes of all the other Saiyans on them, Raditz suddenly dropped his hand slightly and pointed his thumb left. Lato’s head turned in the direction of his thumb as cheers erupted from the crew. Bulma thought she could see the faintest of smiles on Lato’s face as Raditz joined in the cheers.   
  
“Alright, alright, alright.” Nappa said. “Raditz gets the first chance at the biscuit. Line up, everybody.”   
  
Bulma was thoroughly confused as Raditz removed his shirt and stood at one end of the hall, and everyone lined up in front of them. Awkwardly, she turned her head away, involuntarily coughing meekly.   
  
“Why don’t you go first, Bardock. Your kid, after all.”   
  
The one-armed Saiyan that looked like Goku lined up in front of Raditz. Well, maybe not  _exactly_  like Goku. His skin was ruddier and he was older. His face had a prominent scar on his left cheek but it was easily forgotten in sight of the horrific burn scars that wrapped all the way around the right side of his face and throat. Nestled amongst the pitted skin, a white, dead eye stared listlessly into space. Bulma could see him better in the light of the ship, the majority of his body was covered in scars. Whatever he had been through it was miraculous he had even survived.   
  
“I want that biscuit. But don’t let me down.” He said to Raditz, before suddenly crashing his fist into Raditz’s gut.   
  
Raditz grunted and spat, and after a second or two, yelled. He was bent over and trembling, but still on his feet.   
  
“Hm.” Bardock said. “Not bad.” He turned and let Lato line up where he had been. Raditz still hadn’t recovered, but he was slowly straightening himself back up.   
  
Bulma could see the faintest hint of pity in Lato’s eyes.   
  
“I’ll pass.” Lato said. “I don’t want the biscuit.”   
  
The other Saiyans were  _not_  okay with that. They began goading and taunting her.   
  
“Come on, Lato. You have to take your turn. It is a tradition. Passed down from fivefather to fivefather.” Nappa yelled. “You already act like you’re better than us, you can at least  _pretend_  to have some fun.”   


“It’s forefather.” Lato responded flatly.

  
“Why don’t we let our precious little blue-haired  _Kama’ika’i++_ take her place?” Tschev’s voice cut through the chatter.   
  
“Hey now, that’s an idea.” Nappa yelled. He turned to Bulma, who was beginning to think he was deaf. “How’s about it, mmm?”   
  
“Uh, I-” Bulma started to respond.   
  
“Just kidding, you don’t get a choice.” Nappa cut her off. He was suddenly next to her - she had no idea how he moved that fast, especially in the cramped quarters of the galley, but there he was. Without warning, he had picked her up and placed her square in front of Raditz. “Now.” he said. The Saiyans were silent. Tschev glared at her, making no move to hide her self-satisfaction.   
  
Bulma stood there, awkwardly. “Well, come on. Hit ‘im.” Nappa said making boxing gestures, throwing his fists in the air.   
  
Bulma was glad she couldn’t see the expression on her own face, which was probably an odd mixture of confusion, disgust, and fear. She turned to Raditz. He was…. Well. He was certainly…  _fit._  Bulma remembered having fantasies about men with bodies like this. She thought of Yamcha. He had been strong and burly...but… this was a whole different league of muscle.   
  
Taking a breath, Bulma tightened a fist. Alright. She would show these ruffians what she was made of. She’d been on adventures before and toughed it out in less-than-ideal circumstances. She also was quite good with tools - years of building things had given her a degree of strength with just the repetition of hammering, and ratcheting, and...well.

 

 _Here it goes._   
  
She drew back her fist. Inhaled sharply, and grunted as she threw her fist as hard as she could right at Raditz’s navel. He was going to feel this in the morning, Bulma had decided.   
  
Her fist hit him with an unsatisfying  _plip_  sound. The whole room seemed frozen - no one was even breathing. Raditz had an expression that could only be described as pure, unadulterated, confusion.   
  
“Aaaaahhh.” Bulma cried out, holding her fist, “What the… mmmmmmng.” She began to prance in place. “I think…. Holy cow what are you freaks  _made_  of?”   
  
The room erupted in laughter.   
  
“Careful, we got a heavy hitter in here.” Nappa playfully slapped her on the back, nearly knocking her over.

 

Tschev rolled her shoulders. “Alright, enough of this. My turn.”  
  
She stood in front of Raditz, who, to his credit, seemed to have recovered from the blow he’d taken from Bardock. “Careful now, Raditz. You stand up to blue-haired mabs pretty good, but we both know that’s about it. Weak just like your father.” Both of their expressions seemed to harden. Bulma could feel the blood boil between them.    
  
Tschev took her stance and readied her fist. As she launched forward, instead of punching him in the gut, as Bardock had, she threw her leg out, launching off his knee and jumping upwards. With a playful “ _A-ha._ ” she grabbed him by the shoulders and headbutted him square in the nose.

 

The room erupted into shouts and complaints.  
  
“Hey now, Tschev.” Nappa yelled. “Not cool. That’s a disqualification.”   
  
“Excuse me?” She yelled, turning to Nappa and marching up to him. The jovial grin that seemed perpetually on his face was gone, replaced with a seriousness that could freeze boiling water.   
  
“Try it, Tschev. I  _dare_  you…” He taunted. Tschev was the smallest Saiyan on the crew, and Nappa the largest, by far.   
  
“I like a fight as much as the next Saiyan, but if I could interject, it’s moot. Raditz is still standing.” Lato cut in from the corner she had migrated to.   
  
Raditz was indeed standing. Blood was pouring from his nose, but he made no move to stop it or to cover his wound. He seemed almost  _proud_ .   
  
“Psh.” Tschev responded, with a look of genuine anger. “I didn’t want the bloody biscuit anyway.” She turned, and stormed out of the room, her fist colliding with the wall on her way out.   
  
“Hehehe.” Nappa chortled to himself. “I knew she wouldn’t do it. Now…” he moved over to Raditz. “It’s  _my_  turn…”   


“Wait.” Bulma interrupted him, rubbing her aching fist. Everyone looked at her with surprise, even Stoks peaked his head out from the kitchen to watch with curiosity. “Doesn’t Stoks get a chance.”

 

The room erupted into laughter. Nappa slapped her on the back, once again, nearly knocking her off her feet. “You hit harder than Stoks, I can guarantee that. Wouldn’t wanna hurt his delicate hands. We need ‘em.” Nappa laughed uproariously and swept her aside, taking his place in front of Raditz. She watched Stoks disappear into the kitchen without a word.

  
Raditz took a deep breath and braced himself. There was look that Bulma couldn’t quite pin down in his eye. It seemed defiant but at the same time, despairing.   
  
Nappa didn’t even draw back his fist. It barrelled into Raditz’s gut and sent the smaller man flying. He bounced off the wall, leaving a sizable dent, and fell to the floor.   
  
“Well. I guess the biscuit is mine, then.” Nappa said, snatching it from the table and taking a large bite. “Even Raditz could lay ya flat, Stoks, but at least you can cook! See ya at lunch.” he said as he sauntered out. The other Saiyans followed.   
  
Bardock paused briefly before making it to the doorway. Raditz had gotten up on all fours and was shaking and grunting - but he managed to refrain from crying out. He struggled for breath as he looked up at Bardock, who met his eyes for the briefest of moments before scoffing and walking briskly out of the room. Raditz’s head fell as he continued to slowly rise, before stumbling out after the others.

 

  
  
“Well. Poor Raditz never does end up getting a biscuit.” Stoks said, surprising Bulma who hadn’t noticed him come up. Standing next to her, he wiped a large mixing bowl with a dingy rag. “I wonder what they’ll do when they find out there’s nothing for me to make lunch-”

 

“Why do you let them treat you like that? You’re honestly the least deplorable of all of them and they treat you like trash.” Bulma protested, watching them leave the mess hall.

 

Stoks shrugged casually. “Well, they aren’t wrong. I am no warrior...and no warrior is no Saiyan.”  
  
She conceded for the moment, her mind returning to the gravity of the situation Stoks had alluded to earlier.

 

“So… how will we eat?” Bulma asked noticing for the first time the hollow feeling that curled up in her gut.  
  
“Oh it’s no big deal - this sort of thing happens often. We’ll probably go hunting later.”   
  
“Hunting?”   
  
“Mhm. Don’t worry. It’s nothing dangerous, I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

 

“Define fun.” she said flatly.

 

* * *

  


Bulma had spent most of the rest of the day in what had now become her room. Trying to decide what she was going to do next. It was always black as the dead of night outside, she was going to need something if she was going to keep up with these  _Saiyans_. Then she had a fantastic, horrible idea. There had to be some sort of toolkit around this ship somewhere. Bulma had an idea of where it would be. She knew it would be in the last place on the ship she wanted to go.

 

The engine room.

 

She snuck around from room to room, peering casually inside before moving on. Eventually she found herself in the underbelly of the ship. The mismatched grating of the flooring above her leaked speckled light down upon the machinery. It smelled like engine grease and hot steel.

 

She had found it. Blindly Bulma groped around for some sort of light switch, eventually finding a turn-nob that, with a sparking crack caused flickering lights to activate. They showered the engine room in a dull light. The air was cool in the dark, long corridor that followed each side of the engine. Tools were strewn about the room.

 

Bulma nearly stepped on a crumpled pile of blankets and shirts. It seemed someone had slept in the engine room on more than one occasion, possibly even lived down there. It was a thought that made her smile. That someone, from the opposite end of the galaxy, was so much like her.

 

Bulma ran her hands over the notches and edges of the large barrel engine. It was truly a feat that the ship had flown at all. It was parted together from pieces of different technology. It looked more like some sort of new age sculpture than a functioning machine. The more she looked at it, the more she wanted to inspect it, inside and out, and figure out how it worked. What made it tick. What sort of quirks all this cobbling had developed. She didn’t even realize that she had already loosened some panels, inspected some wiring, and dove into studying it.

 

She had to hand it to their mechanic. What they had done with what was on hand was truly amazing. She had her work cut out for her.

 

“Find what you were looking for?”

 

Bulma dropped the tool she was holding like it was on fire. She cleared her throat and turned around. It was Tschev. She was leaning on the edge of the engine block, her arms and ankles crossed casually.

 

“Just looking for some tools. I’m still not going to fix the engine.”

 

“I don’t much care if you do. We’re all dead men anyways. Sooner or later, no skin off my back.”

 

Bulma ignored her and her empty threats. She was not going to stand there and be pushed around. She affectionately patted the engine, stepping back to admire the makeshift handiwork.

 

“Whoever did this was a genius.” Bulma muttered to herself. Tschev pushed herself off the engine where she was casually leaning and slowly sauntered forward, her head turning to the side. Bulma could hear her tail swishing against the floor behind her.

 

“Yes. She was.” They were face to face now. Tschev looking up at Bulma, a growl resonated in the back of her throat. “And you _killed_ her.”

 

_Oh. Crap._

 

Bulma swallowed the fear that rose up in her throat, threatening to turn her stomach. Her hands shook furiously but she straightened herself and stood her ground.

 

“I am sorry about Basil. I know how mu-”

 

“Don’t say her name.” Tschev spat, slamming her fist into the engine, and denting the already rusted metal. “You don’t  _know_  anything!” She was screaming now, her voice cracking. Bulma froze. Tschev reached up and grabbed her face pulling her down to eye level and turning her head this way and that, inspecting her.

 

“Tsk, tsk such a pretty face.” Tschev bit down on her lip, a sick, twisted smile playing across her face. Bulma swallowed hard, unable to stop the sting of tears in her eyes. “It would be a shame if someone were to ruin such a  _beautiful face._  Hmm?”

 

“That’s enough.” a smooth voice came from the doorway. Lato stood calmly, hands clasped together in front of her. “‘Ua galo ea ia ‘oe ou fa’atonuga+++?”

 

Tschev growled at the intruder, her grip on Bulma’s face tightening. “Stay out of this, it doesn’t concern you.”

 

“E Sa’o, mm? It doesn’t. But perhaps the Captain would be interested to know that you came down here to kill our only chance off this planet.”

 

Tschev cursed and once again threw her fist at the engine, a piece behind Bulma fell off from the impact. Hissing something under her breath at Lato she stormed out of the engine room.

 

“T-thank you.”

 

Lato nodded gracefully. “After your performance at breakfast this morning I would urge you to avoid provoking Tschev.” she almost smirked. She turned to leave but stopped. Without turning around she spoke, her tail whisking back and forth with curiosity. “An engine room is an interesting place to find someone who isn’t going to fix an engine.”

 

“I-I just needed some tools. I’m building...something...I” she scrambled to explain herself. “But….but this doesn’t change anything. I’m still not going to fix the ship...I...”

 

Lato had already gone.

  


* * *

  
  


Bulma rested her head on the table, groaning loudly. She listened to Stoks methodically sharpen his collection of blades with his whetstone. It was incredibly soothing. Stoks was quickly becoming the only thing about this place that made her feel  _relatively_  normal.

 

“She hates me. She’s going to  _kill me_  Stoks and wear my face or something. I’ve seen that look in her eyes, she’s small but she’s  _insane_ . I’m going to go to bed one night and I’m going to wake up  _dead._ ”

 

He chuckled under his breath and her head shot up to glare at him.

 

“This is not funny, mister. I am not some super space monkey. I am a human being, and not a very scrappy one at that.”

 

He reached across the table and ruffled her hair affectionately. “Come, don't worry about that now. She'll warm up to you. Who knows mmm? Maybe you two will become friends. ” He chuckled, his sweet smile was simply infectious. He reminded her achingly of Goku. She wanted to fall into his burly arms and cry.

 

“Chin up Soesa. I have good news for you.”

 

She looked at him expectantly, she could really use some good news right about now.

 

“Mhm. We’re going to hunt now.”

 

“That’s...sudden.” Bulma responded cautiously.  


“Well, I’ll need something to cook for tonight.” Stoks said slyly. “If you think Tschev is angry now, just wait until she hasn’t eaten for a day…”

 

Bulma saw the logic in what Stoks was saying.

 

“That makes sense, so what will...Wait…. _we_?”

* * *

* * *

 

AN: Thanks for reading everyone. We hope you enjoy what we have so far and what we have planned! We welcome comments. 

 

As always thanks to my valiant copy editors who put up with my sloppy writing and to HellsBells9000 for beta-reading this for us. You are truly my sweet summer peach.

 

* * *

* * *

 

* ....le tama’i fuga…

  * The little blossom



 **E kakau oga fa’alupeiga le keige.

  * We should *acknowledge the girl. (In this case "acknowledge" means in a culture acceptance way or to give someone the proper greeting to their honor. Basically, Tschevi is being super sarcastic and saying that she is some honorable noble that needs to be welcomed. 



***Soia! Tisevi, gofo la’ia.

  * Stop it, Tschev. Sit.



+Filemu, Tisevi. Amana’ia upu a le Tautai.

  * Peace, Tschev. Heed the words of your captain



++Kama’ika’i = respectful term for a girl/woman. A ‘noble’ lady.

 

+++ ‘Ua galo ea ia ‘oe ou fa’atonuga?

  * Have you forgotten your orders?



 


	5. Don't Fear the Reaper

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

 

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: DON’T FEAR THE REAPER**

* * *

_All our times have come…._

* * *

 

 

Beads of sweat dripped onto the loose dirt like gentle rain. Vegeta’s grunts rhythmically accented the steady beat of his fists against the jagged rock face.

 

The clear droplets mixed with red, as the blood from his fists soaked through the linen that wrapped around his raw knuckles. He fell back, panting. Wiping his bangs from his face with the back of one hand, he mixed the moisture of his perspiration with that of his wounds. He growled in frustration before continuing his relentless assault against his unyielding enemy….

 

* * *

 

“There’s no moon tonight.” Bulma mumbled to herself, almost twisting her ankle for the umpteenth time in the mere minutes since they had set out from the ship.

 

Stoks perched just ahead of her, forearms resting on his bent knees, balancing on a small outcropping with his feet close together. He sniffed the wind, staring into the dark night thoughtfully, his heavy eyebrows knit together. “There’s no moon any night here. Come.” she heard him grunt. “This way.”

 

She struggled to keep up and thought it might be easier to breathe if she wasn’t trying to talk so much. Her thoughts cast to that first encounter with Vegeta in The Brig. She _was_ good at talking. She was not so good at shutting up.

 

“What do you mean there’s no _moon_ ?” She asked in between gasping for breath. The air was thin - much thinner than she was used to. She hadn’t noticed on the ship, but out here, trying to exert herself, it felt like she never did get enough oxygen no matter how deeply she inhaled.   
  
“There’s no moon. No Sun. The stars change every night…” Stoks explained, grabbing hold of her hand and helping her up the edge of a boulder.   
  
“Bu-...that’s impossible. I thought the planet’s rotation matched its orbital period and we were just on the dark side of the planet….but there’s flora and fauna… it’s _warm_ here, it _has_ to be in orbit around a star.”   
  
“Aye, it was.” Stoks responded, his eyes and ears still alert and trained on every squall, every subtle hint on the wind. “When we crashed on the planet, it fell out of orbit.”   
  
Bulma was speechless.   
  
“But that means...that means the planet would be-”

 

“Dying? Mmm.” He mused gently redirecting her so she avoided running right into a gnarled, dead tree.

 

“Besides, your ship… it would have had to have been going… well… faster than it possibly could have to knock a _planet_ out of orbit and still be a _ship_ ...”   
  
“Well… let’s just say, Vegeta had something to do with it.” she could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Besides there's no way a planet could stay heated enough to sustain life, much less as ungodly hot as this place. There would need to be some sort massive energy rea-”  
  
At that moment, a flash of blinding light erupted from somewhere on the horizon. A brilliant, blue-tinged white explosion seemed to fill the sky.   
  
“What in the-” Bulma once again started, before being cut off by Stoks, who had dropped next to her and pulled her down for cover.   
  
Seconds later, the shockwave from the explosion rippled across the barren landscape, ripping dry branches from the brush, throwing small rocks, plants, and other debris along with it.   
  
“Hm. He’s getting stronger.” Stoks said, noting Bulma’s confusion before adding, “Don’t worry, Soesa, you’ll understand soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

The hand shot out of the dark, steadying itself along the hatch of the ship. It slipped, leaving a trail of dark red behind it. The door opened with a whoosh of cool air.

 

Vegeta’s vision blurred from the blood that dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. His heavy feet tripped over the lip of the hatch and he collapsed, blood dribbling down through the grated flooring.

 

He heard shouting but he couldn’t make it out. It sounded far away, like voices underwater. The last thing he saw was Nappa and Raditz frantically running towards him.

 

* * *

 

“Watch your step.” Stoks cautioned as he pulled himself up the mountain of large rocks. “We’re almost there.”

 

“I would.” Bulma quipped. “But, unlike _you,_ I cannot see.”

 

He laughed heartily. They had been collecting roots and anything that moved for what felt like hours now.

 

“How much longer are we gonna do this?”

 

“Until we have enough food Soesa."

 

It was quiet for a while as Stoks harvested roots and the occasional lizard. Bulma kept herself busy merely trying to catch her breath, feeling relief in the hot wind that whipped her hair around.

 

“Stoks?”

 

“Hmm.” he tapped a dry plant, listening to the sound and pulling it up out of the cracked dirt. He sliced the plant at the base, discarding the dry bush, and shoving the root down in his sack.

 

“Why are you so nice to me?” She heard him stop, shifting his feet along the hard, dusty ground.

 

“You remind me of someone I once knew.” his voice was quiet, barely audible. It wasn't long before he set about hunting once again.

 

“Stoks?” she questioned again and he chuckled. “I need to know something.” She huffed, hands resting on her knees. She didn't much care what he was doing, she was just grateful they had stopped. The prickly, dry bushes tugged at her legs, poking fine holes in the skin tight material of her uniform pants.

 

“Hmm?” He had nearly harvested all of the edible plants in the open clearing.

 

“Well...Vegeta is wanted for murder by a man named Lord Frieza.”

 

“Oh?” he laughed, his hand shooting out and grabbing a snake by the back of the head. He swiftly broke its neck and tossed it into the bag.

 

“What’s so funny?” she grumbled.

 

“Wanted for murder. Mmm. _Ioe._ You could say that.”

 

“What does that mean?” She huffed “Look. I need to know. Is he a murderer or not?”

 

“You really want to know?”

 

“Of course I do, wise guy. That's why I asked you.”

 

“In war, people die, soldiers kill.” Stoks shrugged thoughtfully.

 

“So...you’re at war with this Frieza guy?”

 

“Mmm. You could say that.”

 

“Stoks, this isn't funny. I need to know.” her voice was meek, betraying the thoughts that had plagued her since she first set eyes on Vegeta. “Is he a bad man?”

 

The methodical movement stopped and for a moment all was still but the howling winds.

 

“We are all sinners here, Soesa.” a thread of regret twisted through his voice so swiftly she barely caught it.

 

“Stoks I-,” she sighed, tripping and catching herself before she fell into a prickled bush of dead, tangled branches. “I don’t understand.”

 

“You know how Lord Frieza is.”  he sighed.

 

“Of course I don’t. If I _did_ I would not be asking you.” she griped.  

 

“Mmm you _are_ very far from home Soesa, to not at least know of Frieza’s reputation.” he seemed surprised, his hand once more darting out of the darkness and catching another squirming animal. He made quick work of it, tossing it in his sack and moving on.

  


* * *

 

  
  
Nappa and Raditz scrambled to the hatch where Vegeta lay motionless. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and exposed bone peaked through the raw flesh of his palms and knuckles.

 

Nappa dropped down to his side but Raditz stood frozen. Completely paralyzed.  


“Move.” Bardock pushed past his son, ramming his shoulder into Raditz. “Lookin’ for something?” he spat at his son.

 

“Yeah, his skin.” Nappa scoffed as he crouched next to Vegeta on the opposite side as Bardock.

 

“ _Tsk,_ this does not look good…” Bardock muttered. “Go get Tschev.” he snapped at Raditz, when Raditz didn’t move he yelled at him again. “Whatcha waitin’ for, a kiss?”

 

Shaking himself free of his stupor, Raditz scurried off.

 

Turning back to Nappa, Bardock spat out the cigarette butt clenched in his teeth. “Pick him up.”  
  
“Right.” Nappa said. His usual playfulness absent without a trace, as they gingerly carried their wounded prince through the halls of the ship.

 

* * *

 

“So, let me get this straight.” she kicked a tumbleweed off of her shoe angrily. “This Lord Frieza is some sort of intergalactic war monger who blew up your planet and killed everyone. You lot used to work for him. Then you went rogue _and_ now you spend your time raiding his outposts and killing his soldiers. Did I miss anything?” she tried to sound as unimpressed as possible.

 

“Well tha-” he interrupted himself and shushed her roughly.

 

“Wha-” she felt a rough hand over her mouth.

 

“Shhh.” It was barely audible. His ears twitched and he crouched down, pulling her to the ground with him. He pulled a device from his bag sliding it on his face. It lit up. It was unbearably bright after being in the pitch black for so long. Strange text ran across the eyepiece.

 

“What’s going on?” she whispered noting the concerned tone in his voice.

 

“There's trouble.”

 

* * *

 

Tschev held Vegeta’s limp hand in hers clicking her tongue thoughtfully. It was torn to shreds, the exposed knuckle bones scrapped flat and his palms burnt and raw from the repeated, relentless training.

 

“He can’t keep doing this. He’s pushing himself harder every time.” Nappa whispered harshly.

 

“I know Nappa.” Tschev muttered bitterly as she carefully cleaned Vegeta’s raw knuckles. “Don’t stand so close, _pipilo*_ , your smell is blinding me.”

 

Nappa rubbed the back of his neck and sighed taking a step back. “Senikai or not, if he isn’t careful-”

 

“He’s getting stronger. I’m sure you’ve felt it. Trust in your captain. He knows what he’s doing.” Lato interjected calmly, picking at her nails, and watching Tschev’s methodical, quick handiwork.

 

“She’s right.” Bardock mumbled behind his cigarette, leaning in the doorway.

 

“But he’s still so young.” Nappa interjected, wiping the sweat from his face. “If he keeps knockin’ on Death’s door one day He’s gonna answer.”

 

“He won’t get Senikai if he doesn’t push himself to his limits. He will need that strength. We all will. Getting off this planet is only the first battle. You remember what awaits us out there.” Lato reasoned.

 

“But he ain't no good to no one dead.” Nappa snapped.

 

Bardock grunted in protest. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word in Tschev dropped the needle and thread and slammed the side of her fist into the metal cabinets behind her, popping them open and causing them to swing wildly.

 

“That's it. Enough. _Kaoga ese**_! All of you. Out.” she screamed. They ignored her outburst, slowly trickling out of the makeshift medical bay.

 

After they had left she turned her attention to the split in Vegeta’s forehead. Wiping his bloodsoaked bangs from his face she threaded her needle whispering quietly to him.

 

“Don’t you worry now, lau afioga***,” She bit the thread with her teeth, cutting it from it’s spool. “I’ll fix ya up, real good like.”

 

* * *

 

The silence was strangling as Stoks stared into the dark, listening. His ears twitching, axes pulled from their holsters on his back. With his back to Bulma he slid the sack of roots and animals they had collected off his shoulder and shoved it into her arms.

 

“Take care of them Pulama.” there was an urgency in his voice that made her heart drop.

 

“Wh-”

 

“They need you more than they know.” He cleared his throat, swallowing the sting in his eyes.

 

“Stop it Stoks. You’re scaring me.” she scrambled back to her feet and groped at the darkness for him, finding his arm. She held tightly to him, nearly tripping over the uneven ground.

 

Stoks turned to her, cradling her in his arms he ran his rough fingers through her hair and sliding something over her head.

 

“Wha-”

 

“Whatever you hear, whatever you see, don’t stop. Run. Run as fast as you can. Keep running until you reach the ship. Give them _this._ They will know what it means.” Swallowing hard he grabbed her hands, shoving something into them and tucking his finger under her chin.

 

“Don’t say that. I’m not going to leave you here. I can’t get back on my own. Come with me.” She was beginning to panic. He wrapped his arms around her one last time, squeezing her tight.

 

She was confused and scared. He slid the scouter onto her face and clicked the button. For the first time since they left, she could see him, bathed in a green light of the strange device’s night vision. He looked terrified but still he smiled at her sweetly and it melted the frigid panic that pricked her bones.

 

Stoks ignored her, pressing his forehead against hers, their noses touching, for a moment. It felt oddly intimate. Before she could question him he sighed heavily and whispered in her ear. “Now run.” and he pushed her forward into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Sixteen stitches later she was finally finished. Tschev cut the thread with her teeth. She hated to admit it but she was beginning to think Nappa just _might be_ right. Vegeta was usually awake by now, griping at her to leave him alone and stop touching him.

 

She wasn’t that much older than him, only four years separated them in age but after everything they had been through together she couldn’t help it. None of them could. She leaned against the wall crossing her arms and resting her tired foot against the dented metal cabinets.

 

When they had first met nearly all of them had been children. But they were adults now, just as confused and just as helpless to stop the tyrant that had destroyed their world. Frieza thirsted for Saiyan blood and would never be satisfied until they were all dead. It was hard not to feel hopeless. These seven were the only remnants of their proud warrior race. And they were trapped on a dead planet, slowly starving to death.

 

She could hear someone approaching. Smelled like...Bardock. She turned to find Raditz standing at the foot of the table, staring down at Vegeta.

 

_Nope. Just his idiot son._

 

“Lato told me what happened. How’s he?”

 

“Same as always.” Tschev sighed in aggravation, running her hands through her hair and letting them fall to her sides. “Fit to be tied and fixin’ to die.”

 

Raditz chuckled under his breath inspecting Vegeta’s swollen hand and Tschev’s handiwork as she wrapped the other fist in clean linen.

 

“ _Oof._ This looks-”

 

“Yeah.” she interrupted. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to talk about it. She made her way around the head of the table to wrap his other hand when they both stopped, ears perking up at the sound.

 

Footsteps.

 

Someone was running towards the ship.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma could see the shape of the ship on the horizon through the scouter.  She tripped over loose rocks and tangled tumbleweeds. She couldn’t feel her feet anymore, her legs felt like lead.

 

_Just keep running, keep running._

 

She had heard screams - Stoks’ and others, gunshots, small explosions, and the sound of booming laughter. She ran through the blur of tears and the sting of the scrapes on her legs and arms. Hugging the bag of roots and critters tightly, she pressed the button for the hatch over and over until it opened and she collapsed inside. The device Stoks had given her flew off her face and skidded across the floor as she fell on top of the bag, its contents spilling along with her. She tried desperately to control her breathing but she felt like she was going to pass out or throw up, whichever came first.

 

She felt herself being lifted off the floor like a ragdoll.

 

“We are really gonna need to do something about that ledge. Huh, Bardock?” Nappa chuckled, setting her upright.

 

Lato cocked her head to the side, a look of concern tightened her features. “What happened to you?”

 

“S-Stoks...he-” Bulma choked before falling into broken sobs. The device Stoks gave her, she was supposed to...she scrambled for it and shoved it into the closest person’s hands. Lato placed it on her face and pressed a button on its side. It lit once more to life.

 

“We’ve got Purgers everyone.” she announced. The ship exploded into action. Bulma felt a numbing disconnect from everything that was happening. She found herself on her knees watching numbly as people rushed around, grabbing weapons, flipping blades, cocking guns, and tying clothes over their mouths and noses, presumably to protect from the harsh winds and dust. Bulma stared at a pair of feet that stopped in front of her. Nappa grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her upright once again.

 

“Listen Soesa. You need to stay here with the cap, alright?”

 

Tschev whipped around, mouth agape. “Hey _vale_! What are you thinking? You really trust her enough to leave her here?”

 

“What’s she gonna do, eh?” he laughed. “Even with him down on a gut hook, she’s no match for him. He’d snap her pretty little neck before she could even think about tryin’ nothin’.”

 

_Lovely._

 

“Tschev. Show her to the captain.”

 

If looks could kill, Nappa would have died right then and there. Before Bulma had time to voice her protests Tschev pulled her violently forward by the shirt, dragging her down the hallway.

 

They stopped outside one of the uniform metal doors. Tschev wadded up a fistful of Bulma’s shirt and pushed her into the wall opposite the door. “The captain is _inside_ . _You_ will stay _outside_.” she jabbed Bulma’s chest with her finger. “If I smell your putrid scent anywhere but right here. I will kill you.” She pushed a pistol into Bulma’s hands, looking her dead in the eye. Bulma understood.

 

“A-aren’t you going to kill me anyways?” Bulma muttered defiantly. Tschev growled, snapping her teeth in Bulma’s face before storming off.

 

Bulma flattened to the wall, sliding down and hugging her knees. She felt something heavy against her chest and remembered Stoks had slid something around her neck. She followed the chain down to the medallion, pulling it free from her shirt and inspecting it. It was cast from heavy metal. On the front of it there was a design. Three circles intersected and in the center a sun and a moon. Seven stars encircled the medallion’s design. She traced them with her fingers. It wasn’t long before Bulma drifted off to sleep, her imagination running wild to the lullaby of distant howling.

* * *

* * *

 

*pipilo - horrifically stinky or smelly

 

**Kaoga ese! - a very rude way of saying "get lost".

 

***lau afioga - a respectful term of endearment for a leader

 


	6. Funeral for a Friend

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND**

* * *

_I wonder if those changes have left a scar on you_

_Like all the burning hoops of fire that you and I passed through_

 

* * *

 

Bulma’s dreams were haunted by the screams she heard as she had left Stoks, and when she fitfully half-awoke into the strange realm between sleep and consciousness those dreams mixed with the enigmatic howls she heard in the distance, punctuated by the irregular, ceaseless booms of explosions and gunshots.

 

She was terrified, and she wasn’t sure whether she preferred reality or her nightmares.

 

Occasionally, she’d peek into the medical bay, feeling odd at the responsibility entrusted to her. Vegeta was sleeping, apparently peacefully, or at least peacefully for Vegeta. His breathing was ragged and his body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Bulma wondered if his eyebrows ever relaxed. She noticed the blood soaking slowly through the bandages on his hands. The long sleeves of his pants and shirt had been rolled up to reveal bruises on his elbows and knees, and his complexion was pale, and all this made her wonder what in the world he had been doing since they arrived on the rogue planet in the escape pod from the capsule. She hardly ever saw him, which was a startling contrast to the other saiyans who had a nasty habit of ‘accidentally’ sneaking up on her.

 

She didn’t know if it was that she was beginning to understand Vegeta more or if it was merely in comparison to the other saiyans - but he was almost handsome, in a way. She caught herself thinking that and immediately reminding herself that he was a cold-hearted soldier at best, and a ruthless murderer at worst, and chided herself.  
  
Returning her attention to other things - not that there was much to pay attention to in the smothering opacity of the bulkheads around her - she tried her best to put Vegeta out of her mind. The gun Tschev had handed her was fascinating, being cobbled together much like the engine of the ship itself, and that made Bulma wonder if Basil had made it as well.   
  
She drifted back off asleep trying to remember the face of the saiyan who had died on the Capsule back what seemed like ages ago, when life was so much simpler - as simple as a pioneering expedition into space could be, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma felt something nudge her foot. She rolled over, rubbing her cold, bare arms and curling into the wall.

 

“Hey.”

 

This time it nudged her in the back. Harder.

 

“Wake up, kid.” a gruff voice muttered. She opened her eyes and straightened out her stiff arms. She was sleeping on the grate floor. Bardock stood over her, chewing on the end of a cigarette. He looked tired and bloody, still holding a shotgun in his hand. He lifted it to scratch his face with his thumb.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Wake up. We got somewhere to be.”

 

Bulma followed Bardock into the mess hall. She rubbed her tired eyes nearly running into Lato. She took a step to the side and huddled into the corner of the mess hall out of the way of the saiyans. Everyone stood in a row, arms folded or leaning on weapons. Solemn and silent facing the wall of artifacts. Vegeta crouched in front of them, back to the crew. They all looked tired and beat to hell, but there was something even worse. There was a sadness that hung over the room like a storm cloud. She couldn’t place it and she couldn’t shake it.

 

Vegeta kneeled in front of the wall, his tail wrapped tightly around his waist. He finished his whispered prayer in Saiyan and the crew responded. Then he stood and turned towards them. Gently resting in his outstretched, bandaged palms was a dented stock pot.

 

Bulma choked on the gasp.

 

“Where is Stoks?” She demanded. The saiyans looked at her with disgust, as though she had just tracked mud all over a lovely persian rug. Lato placed a hand on Bulma’s shoulder.

 

The silence was deafening. It told her everything she needed to know.

 

Stoks was gone.

 

“Ua mafatia itatou i lalo o le pogisa o le po, ile ma le pogisa o o tatou agaga..” Vegeta started, his eyes moving from saiyan to saiyan until they finally rested on Bulma. He paused, thoughtfully, before continuing in Galactic Common.

 

“It has long since been when we could gather the fruit in the pool of water, and the laurel tree roots have sat bare of happy meetings…”  
  
“Shhh…” Lato whispered almost inaudibly at Bulma, who was still confused. She understood the words but either she was going insane or Vegeta had - it was like he was talking gibberish. “He’s saying that our spirits are as dark as the night, and we will never be complete again…” she continued, translating the cryptic metaphors for Bulma.   
  
“Stoks kept our ship sunk, and now his has for the last time…”   
  
“He filled our bellies and, well, I’m sure you get that.” Lato choked up some. Bulma could tell she was hearing the Saiyan words in her head even though Vegeta continued to speak in common.   
  
“Though the master fisherman is wise, he casts his net sometimes on the wrong side of the boat, and our brother’s grass was yet green..”   
  
“Even masters make mistakes, and Stoks was...an inexperienced warrior.” Lato paused occasionally, struggling to find a way to adequately represent the meaning of the shrouded words while minimizing the loss of the nuance of translated proverbial expressions.   
  
“And yet we say to him, now, your place is forever in the fore of the village, and you shall not be hid behind the village. The great star of the warrior has found his resting place. _Malie Toa, Malie Tau.*”_

 

“ _Malie Toa! Malie Tau!”_ the crew responded in unison.

 

And with that, Vegeta turned around and raised the battered pot to his forehead before resting it on the wall in a spot that only now Bulma saw had been prepared for it among the dozens of random, mish-mashed items that adorned it. It suddenly sunk in to Bulma that all of these were personal items of fallen saiyans.

 

“ _Muamua pea ou te fia si’i le vi’iga ma le fa’afetai i le Tufuga o Toa o i le lagi, aua le avanoa ‘ua maua tatou te fa’apotopoto ai i le fa’amanatuga o le tasi ‘ua pa’u i le mamalu. Fa’afetai fo’i i lau afioga, lo matou tautai ma matai. Ta’ita’i pea atu, ma o le’a matou mulimuli pea atu.**”_ _  
_ _  
_ Lato was speaking now, with a musical cadence and lilt to her words, the tone rising and falling in patterns with each statement. Bulma sat in awe as the whole group of saiyans reverently looked on in silence.   
  
“ _‘Ua fa’anoanoa o matou loto, aua ‘ua sau apa’ula, ‘ua tautua. ‘Ua maliu ese ai lo matou uso, lo matou tuagane. Ave o matou sese ma lafo ai i le nu’u le aina…***”_ _  
_ _  
_ Lato continued for several minutes more, and as she did, tears streamed down her cheeks and moistened the faces of the other saiyans - except for Vegeta. They flowed across those hard faces like a river cutting canyons into stone and to Bulma these hardened killers, these outlaw warriors suddenly seemed so vulnerable and raw. It reminded her of the look on Raditz’s face as Nappa stepped up to lay him flat for a biscuit just the day before - resigned yet defiant.   
  
Suddenly all the talk of dying wasn’t just talk. These saiyans...these _people_ had lost more friends and comrades than she could comprehend. They had done so slowly, just one or two at a time, and now there were only six left. They all believed that they were going to die. They _knew_ they were going to die, and yet they stood up, proudly, against the might of a foe that could floor them with a single, effortless, blow.   
  
Bulma was pulled back to the mess hall by the silence that followed Lato. She had finished and sat, to the grunts and words of agreement of her comrades. Vegeta responded something in Saiyan before switching again to common.   
  
“Despite that… despite all that they take from us, there is one thing that you cannot take from a Saiyan…” He said, with a strange smile that was mirrored in his crew.   
  
“His pride!” They all yelled together, throwing their fists in the air.

 

* * *

  


Bulma stood outside her door, pausing to consider whether or not she should retreat inside. She wanted to curl up in the rough fabric of her cot and whither away. But she didn’t, instead she stood, not moving forward and not moving back.

 

Bulma ran her fingers along the doorknob, screwing her eyes shut tight. Her head ached and her eyes were sore from crying. She wished she could think of something else, of anything else. But all she could think of was Stoks and how he had been mercilessly ripped from her.

 

She would never get the chance to say thank you...or goodbye.

 

She looked to the right, to the last room in the hall. It sat next to the kitchen and the access hatch for the roof of the ship...the door to Stoks’ room. Finding herself in front of it, she traced her fingers along the dented metal. Something about all of this felt so wrong but she swallowed the feeling and with a deep stuttering breath she pushed his door open.

 

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked around. Stoks’ living quarters were small and contained very little; a cot, a small rug in the center of the  room stitched from intricate designs in deep, rich colors, and a small bundle of personal items in the corner. It smelled like him, like sweat and hickory smoke. For a moment she was comfortably numb. It all felt like a dream, one from which she desperately yearned to wake.

 

She sat on the cot, her hand resting on a shirt that had been bunched up, probably used as a pillow. One too many nights had been spent crying herself to sleep, her face smashed into her pillow to drown out the alien world around her. She couldn’t help but think of how it smelled just like the room. He must have given it up for her when she arrived. She never knew, never said thank you. She held the shirt to her face and breathed it in deep. Her chest ached as it heaved. She heard her heavy sobs as she wailed into the fabric, but it sounded foreign and distant. Whenever she closed her tired eyes she saw him. His tawny, wild hair and deep chocolate eyes, the smattering of light freckles that covered the tops of his cheeks and his nose. He was brawny and tall and so incredibly tender. Never again would he knock on her door, or hum quietly as he worked, she would never sit with him as he sharpened his blades slowly and deliberately while listeningto her whine. He would never rest his hand on the top of her head again.

 

She didn’t know how long she had cried. She lifted the shirt, wiping her tears on the fabric. Pulling it on she wrapped it around herself as something fell from the folds of the shirt, startling her.

 

It was a picture, or rather a small, intricate tapestry. It looked like it had been hand-stippled with fine threads. It was a portrait of Stoks. He towered over a delicate, short woman, a hand resting on her shoulder. She had pale green skin, and rosy cheeks. In his other arm he held a small girl. Vibrant blue strands of hair wisped around the little girls face, just like her mother’s, and just like Bulma’s.

 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

 

Bulma dropped the fabric and threw her back into the wall, turning to face the doorway. She tried to look as natural as possible, but instead she looked extremely suspicious. These saiyans’ nasty habit of sneaking up on her was beginning to bother her. She turned, wiping her hands on her pant legs and balling the loose fabric of the sleeves in her fists. Lato stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her, her expression unreadable. After a moment she stepped inside the room and picked up the small, rough canvas and handed it back to Bulma.

 

“Who is she?” Bulma cleared her throat awkwardly.

 

“You know,” she mused. “Bardock would know better than I.” she said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

 

“Bardock.” Bulma said with slight disdain. _Of course._ That wasn’t going to happen. Bardock was _terrifying_. “Right.” she grumbled under her breath.

 

Lato smiled at her mischievously. “Something wrong with Bardock?”

 

“No. Nope. Nooo....” Bulma stuttered and sighed. “No he just...”

 

Lato laughed. “No matter. I just wanted you to know we are having a bonfire outside. You’re welcome to join the rest of the crew, if you’d like.”

 

And with that Bulma found herself, once more, completely alone.

 

* * *

 

 

It was hotter than it had been since Bulma arrived. Nearly all of the saiyans had shed the outer layers of clothing and stripped down to bare tops and bare feet. Only Vegeta remained fully clothed from head to toe. The night was scorching and unbearably still, and yet they sat around anyway. Just as they had done every night. She watched the light of the fire flicker like a candle from the safety of the ship’s ramp.

 

She listened to them laugh and joke, seamlessly weaving between Common and Saiyan. They seemed reserved...for saiyans at least. Still she simply could not understand how they could act as though they had not a care in the world. Stoks was dead. Nothing on this barren planet would ever be the same. There was nothing to smile or laugh about. And yet there they were.

 

The saiyans chatted, laughed, and wrestled as Lato and Raditz stripped the roots of their rough skin with their knives and tossed them onto the coals at the edge of the fire. It was quiet for a time. Nappa broke the silence, but Bulma couldn’t make out what he was saying. He gave Bardock a playful push and the rest of the saiyans followed suite. Even Vegeta said something, all of the saiyans hooting in agreement.

 

Then the completely unexpected happened.

 

Bardock began to sing, his voice was rough and low. The words sounded strange, even for Saiyan, and the melody was haunting. It danced around the wafting smoke, wrapping itself around Bulma. She found her eyes begin to sting with fresh tears.

 

The melody was slow and graceful, but as he continued it picked up in volume and tempo. Bulma was transfixed at how the leaves of flame at the center of the circle where they sat seemed to dance with song. It went faster and faster, louder and louder until Bardock’s voice seemed to echo off the mountains themselves. Then, with all the suddenness of a bolt of lightning piercing the darkness, Bardock’s voice stopped. After a pregnant pause, the melody started again for one last refrain, once again slow and graceful, as impossibly soft as it had been loud a moment before. Bardock’s voice courted the silence so smoothly that Bulma could hardly tell when the song was actually over.

 

“That was beautiful.” Bulma stepped into the light of the fire, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. Silence fell over the campfire as the saiyans looked at her with a combination of surprise and malcontent. No one said anything and the silence was strangling. Bulma turned to retreat to the ship but stopped at the sound of Bardock’s voice.

  


“Learned it on Ornio.” Bardock lit the end of the cigarette he had been chewing and took a deep breath. “From a preacher man...Bishop the Good.” he chewed on the end of his cigarette thoughtfully, rolling it over with his tongue and staring into the flames. “See….we got wise to Frieza, and he came for my crew. Killed every last one of ‘em. Tried to cut him off before he made it back home. All came to a head on a planet just outside the Neutral Zone. He blew me half to Hell.”

 

“Half?” Tschev snorted, breaking the dry twig and tossing pieces of it into the fire. He ignored her, continuing. Bulma found herself moving to sit next to Lato around the fire, sliding down the edge of the rock and pressing her back into it.

 

“When Bishop found me the crows were pickin’ my bones. Stoks was with ‘im. Wearing that shirt, I might add.” he gestured slightly with his head in Bulma’s direction.

 

“Stoks?” the name was barely audible as it caught in Bulma’s throat.

 

“Mmm. Stoks’d been sent to purge the planet years before. Couldn’t bring himself to do it, that was the end of that. Seems he found the gods or something of the like in that swamp.”

 

Thunder cracked in the distance as webs of lightning sparked from cloud to cloud, illuminating the pitch black sky with brilliant flashes of purple and blue.

 

“Bishop said he had been sent by the Gods to find me, just like he’d found Stoks.” Bardock scoffed, his smile pulling at the mottled burn scars that covered his face. “Y’see, them two...they had _the sight_. In touch with some, y’know, Higher Power or whatnot. Said the Gods had plans for Stoks ‘n me. That we were gonna stop Frieza’s occupation in the Neutral Zone before it began.” He flicked the end of his cigarette, tossing the butt into the fire. “Stoks,” he chuckled hoarsely, “...was a piss-ass excuse for a Saiyan. But he was the closest thing to a saint I ever knew.”

 

The other saiyans muttered in agreement, quietly chewing on the charred roots.

 

“W-wait. But…” she questioned.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“What happened to Bishop?” Bulma questioned, pulling her knees close to her chest and resting her chin on them.

 

“The same thing that happens to all prophets, kid...” He lit another cigarette, blowing the smoke into the hot night wind. “He died.”

 

The thunder rumbled in the distance, overlapping with the bright sparks that struck the dry ground.

 

“You know what Stoks used to say.” Lato said.

 

“O le leo o Atua le faititili. The sound of lightning is the gods.” Nappa boomed.

 

“Uh...no.” Raditz rolled his eyes picking a bone clean with his teeth and discarding it. “Stoks never said that.”

 

“The gods speak in the rollin’ thunder.” Lato mused as she watched the desert storm grow closer. Bardock, pushed himself up and tossed the bone he had been chewing on into the flames. He turned to leave.

 

“Wait. Bardock.” Bulma hugged her knees tighter and clasping the medallion around her neck. Bardock stopped, looking at her with a curious look. “Do _you_ believe in the Gods?”

 

Everyone seemed to stare at him, waiting for his response.

 

“No kid,” he took a long drag off his cigarette. “I don’t.”  dropping the cigarette on the ground he let it smolder in the dirt. “But I believe in the devil. Don’t need no faith for that. ‘Cause I looked him dead in the eye.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma stomped through the halls of the ship. She was beginning to feel more than a little irritated. It didn’t matter where she went or how loudly she called out, the ship appeared to be completely deserted. She shifted the weight of the rusty capacitor on her hip and carried on. Eventually she was bound to find _someone_.

 

_Right?_

 

She was pulled from her own thoughts as she tripped over something. She tumbled to the floor, the heavy capacitor falling on her foot.

 

“ _Mmm.”_  a slew of curse words fell from her mouth as she hopped on one foot. Bending down to pick up the heavy, broken piece of junk she noticed something odd. Her nose scrunched at the sight of six pairs of boots of various sizes, from freakishly large to tiny.

 

_Gotcha._

 

She squatted down to the ground and lifted the capacitor, using her shoulder to push open the door that the shoes had been carelessly strewn in front of.

 

The saiyans sat cross-legged surrounding an ornate rug that filled most of the floor. Vegeta sat at the head, directly in front of her. As Nappa was saying something in Saiyan, he looked up at her with a dark scowl, his face resting on his hands that were woven together. Without moving he lifted his eyes to meet hers. It melted into a look of morbid curiosity adorned with a smirk.

 

Impatiently, Bulma marched into the room and across the rug towards him and when she finally reached him she dropped the capacitor, eliciting a cacophony of gasps, growls and mutters from the saiyans that sat around the rug.

 

His eyes narrowed and the playful look was suddenly gone like a wisp of smoke. She huffed angrily, ignoring the irritated saiyans and placing her hands on her hips.

 

“If I’m going to fix the engine, I need one of these.”

* * *

* * *

*Malie Toa, Malie Tau. - There’s kind of a story here. In short, a battle cry.

 

**Muamua pea ou te fia si’i le vi’iga ma le fa’afetai i le Tufuga o Toa o i le lagi, aua le avanoa ‘ua maua tatou te fa’apotopoto ai i le fa’amanatuga o le tasi ‘ua pa’u i le mamalu. Fa’afetai fo’i i lau afioga, lo matou tautai ma matai. Ta’ita’i pea atu, ma o le’a matou mulimuli pea atu.

 

First, I want to lift the praises and thanks to the Craftsman of Warriors in the heavens, for this opportunity we have received to gather and remember the one who has fallen in glory. Thanks also to your *majesty, our captain and chief. Lead on, and we will ever follow.

 

***‘Ua fa’anoanoa o matou loto, aua ‘ua sau apa’ula, ‘ua tautua. ‘Ua maliu ese ai lo matou uso, lo matou tuagane. Ave o matou sese ma lafo ai i le nu’u le aina…” 

  * Our hearts are anguished, for Apa’ula has come, but late (a proverbial reference to an old myth about misfortune caused by late arrival). Our brother has passed. Take our failings and throw them in the abandoned village. (i.e. where no one will remember them)



  



	7. The Sound of Silence

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: THE SOUND OF SILENCE**

* * *

  _Hello darkness, my old friend_

_I've come to talk with you again_

* * *

 

At times since taking the blue-haired _soesa_ from her pathetic ship, she had proven to be annoying, frustrating even. Vegeta had anticipated that, and honestly, it was an easy price to pay. But this was the first time she had been downright infuriating.

 

He looked at Bulma as coldly as he could, trying desperately to hold back the explosion of fury that threatened to unleash itself upon her. At least she was willing to work on the engine, that was something. He had already begun ruminating on the possibility of actually _forcing_ her to work on the engines, but if she didn’t do it willingly then there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t sabotage the ship in some stupid gesture of defiance. So there was that. She was at least beginning to cooperate.  
  
Still, she had marched right into a _fono_ , interrupted everyone present, and had the audacity to speak while standing to a seated lord. Vegeta wondered if the concept of _respect_ even existed on her planet.

 

“...well?!” she said, the word dripping with impetuity.  
  
The room continued to hold its breath, all eyes on the intruder. Tschev stared with a rage almost equal to Vegeta, Nappa’s jaw was as wide as his head was bald, Raditz had the usual dumb look on his face and Bardock almost looked like he actually cared about something for once. Lato was praying that nothing in the rickety ship fell or broke or made any noise whatsoever as it would probably ignite the tension in the room like a bomb’s wire being tripped.

 

“Then we shall get one.” Vegeta said, calmly.

 

“...oh.” Bulma responded, taken aback at the calmness of the answer. Even she was picking up on the fact that she had just crossed a few lines, though she couldn’t figure out what they were. She discretely made sure that she hadn’t tracked mud or dirt into the room, though honestly it’s not like the rug was in the best condition anyway. “Well, uh… thank you. For that. I… need to go...check on the… yeah.” She stammered, suddenly keenly aware that maybe those lines were more significant than stepping onto a rug.  
  
“Will you now get out?” Vegeta asked, the implied command taking the form of a request was as polite as he could muster.  
  
“Uh… yup. Just, uh… yeah. Need one of… _those_ , if I’m gonna… yeah. I’ll be in the engine room in anyone needs me!” Bulma called out as she began to back out of the room before the anxiety impelled her to simply turn an run.  
  
“Oga ‘ua ‘oki lo kakou uso ‘o Sitokisi; Lato, o le’a ‘e fai ai ma sui mo ‘ia. Fa’amalamalama i le _soesa_ ‘o le uiga o le fa’aloalo.*” Vegeta said as she ran from the room. She had stopped just outside the door, half to try and regain her composure, but also to listen to what they said after she left, but she should have known they’d be speaking Saiyan. She had no idea that they all knew she was still there, hiding just out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta made his way from the safety of the ship into the dry, desert storm. It was sweltering, as always. The harsh winds kicked up rocks and dry weeds, sandblasting his raw skin with red earth.

 

Nappa had told him he needed to rest, to give his aching muscles time to recover. It was too soon to fight again, even for a saiyan. But Vegeta didn't need to rest, he needed to fight. He needed to shake the thought of Stoks now, of his gentle wisdom and what he would’ve said.

 

Stoks had been no warrior and he had never pretended to be. But he had died like a Saiyan. And Vegeta couldn't help but entertain the thought that slithered up from the pit of his stomach and wormed its way into his brain. If he had been paying more attention, if he had trained with more care, been stronger, faster, maybe Stoks would still be alive.

 

His fist collided with a gnarled, dead tree, ramming through the charred wood and splitting it in two, showering him with splinters.

 

* * *

 

Bulma decided she could have handled the shouting. Over the past few weeks she had almost grown accustomed to the noisy nature of the saiyans. But it was never _just_ the shouting. Between the shouts and the screaming there was the pounding; items colliding with walls and floors, and fists colliding with flesh. Unfortunately the engine room seemed to be little more than a glorified resonating chamber.

 

“What are they yelling about now?” Bulma muttered under her breath as she tied her hair back. Lato pricked her ears and listened to the chaos above them. She began to laugh as the shouting stopped and the crashing and banging intensified.

 

“He complimented her hair.” Lato chuckled.

 

“That’s a new low, even for them.” Bulma griped, recalling Bardock and Tschev’s earlier tiff at breakfast about sharpening ax-blades or something like that. She wiped the grease from her hands, reaching for a couple of intake valves they had salvaged from the front of the engine block. “I _almost_ feel bad for Bardock.”

 

“I wouldn't worry about him too much. He’s just as eager as Tschev.”

 

“Lovely….” she trailed off as she climbed the engine block, straddling the top and scooting along it. Her voice echoed as she stuck her head inside the Jefferies tube and shimmied inside. Lato climbed up on the side of the of the engine, casually holding on to the myriad of tools that Bulma had been using.

 

“Gimme the-"

 

“This one, yeah?”

 

“Yep. Hey, thanks for helping me. Bardock was supposed to but I wasn't about to get in the middle of that.”

 

“Wise.” Lato passed the multi-headed screwdriver to Bulma and leaned on the engine casually.

 

“What's their problem anyways?” Bulma questioned.

 

“Mmm. In Saiyan we would say that those two are wings of the same crow.”

 

“So...what...they're too just _similar_ to agree? That doesn't make any sense.” Her voice echoed from inside the Jefferies tube, punctuated by loud ratcheting.

 

“Well, I have known them both for a long time.” her words were interrupted by the ruckus of the fight directly above them. “And they are a constant reminder to each other of what they hate in themselves, too strong and prideful to admit they are so similar. Maybe just like you and Vegeta. Mmm?”

 

“Excuse _you_ .” Bulma popped her head out of the tube in an act of defiance and Lato tried not to laugh. “I am nothing like him. He's a grouchy, pompous, _stupidly_ stubborn, self-entitled, child who thinks he is _far more_ clever than he actually is.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“I mean..and on top of all of that he is irresponsible. He's been gone for, what, like a week now? What the hell could he be doing out there?”

 

“Every one of us has a load we must carry.” Lato mused. She could hear Bulma muttering in irritation but she didn’t bring it up again, dropping the subject and working huffily and quietly for a time.

 

“Lato.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I'm beginning to think this whole engine needs to be replaced. I'm amazed the damn thing ever flew in the first place.”

 

* * *

 

 _One more._ Vegeta thought to himself. He could manage one more blast. Of course he’d said that to himself before each of the five previous _Final Flashes_ . It was the name he had given to the technique he had developed. It was a particularly difficult technique, and more than once when practicing it Vegeta had almost lost control and incinerated his own body, but it would be worth it - it was powerful enough to give pause to even Frieza himself.  
  
He looked around between breaths, his chest heaving, trying to find a new target. Settling on a boulder about fifty yards away, he stumbled towards it, stopping about halfway there.  
  
He widened his stance, bending his knees deeply to root himself in place. Slowly, at first, he began to gather the energy in his body. It stung his bloody, raw knuckles, but the pain only served to intensify his focus as he grunted in determination. Exhausted though he was, he had to keep his skeletal alignment and posture without too much tension in his muscles - the energy needed to flow but also be directed properly. It was like channeling a raging river through a narrow hose and keeping the hose from bursting.  
  
He extended his arms to his sides before pulling his hands together in front of him, his elbows still locked. _Just a second….longer…_ he fought with himself to hold the energy back as it continued to grow, to not release it too early. He grunted as he lost his grip on the energy, a gigantic wave of intense light launching forth from his palms in front of him. It collided with the boulder which gave way instantly to the beam of energy, exploding into a burst of sand which peppered Vegeta and everything else around it.  
  
Vegeta collapsed to his knees, disgusted with himself. He looked at his raw, burned hands and knew that he couldn’t try again today.

“Tzch.”  
  
After several minutes, he managed to get back on his feet, and he stumbled back towards the ship. He considered sending a message to them with his scouter - he was close enough for them to receive it, even on the reserved power settings they used to make their resources last.  
  
He chided himself for his weakness. It was only a dozen or so miles. Surely, he could walk that far.

 

* * *

 

Bulma ran her hand along the engine, walking from one end of the long corridor that held it, to the other. She had become intimately familiar with the right-hand shaft of the engine block over the week that she had spent removing every damaged part from it’s coils and valves. She had never seen such a miraculously, brilliantly cobbled piece of machinery in her life.

 

She thought about Basil and wished she could speak to her now, ask her about her process and her ideas. She heard a voice echo from the dark corridor behind her.

 

“You like it, mmm?” the voice danced electrically.

 

“Very much so.” Bulma muttered, turning towards the dark to see the figure standing there. Basil patted the engine affectionately.

 

“She’s my pride and joy. Not...not much of a beauty anymore but I still love her.” she laughed melodically toying with the goggles that hung lazily about her throat.

 

Bulma wasn’t sure what to say. Afterall, what is the proper thing to say to a ghost?

 

“I think they really miss you. They won’t talk about it but they do.”

 

“Mmm, and I them. But they can get along just fine without me. They have you now.”

 

“I don’t know about that. I’m not good at this. Any of _this._ ” she gestured wildly around her.

 

“Give it time.” she smiled sweetly, nudging her goggles into her mouth and chewing on the strap.

 

“Here.” she crouched down and slid her arm under the engine, pulling out a notebook, with a dangling cord wrapped around it. “Give this to Tschev for me?”

 

“Oh...of course.” Bulma took the bundle cautiously.

 

Basil patted the engine again, then looked back up at Bulma with sorrowful eyes.

 

“I gotta go now. Take good care of her, alright?”

 

“I don’t know if I can.” Bulma blinked the tears away. “I...I’m trying but it’s falling apart. Everytime I try and put something back together it just collapses.”

 

“Not her.” Basil patted the engine. “I know you can handle _this_ just fine.” she smiled sweetly.

 

Slowly her form began to fade away like sands slipping through the curve of the hourglass. When she was gone Bulma heard the engine groaning. Rust spread over it’s cobbled curves like blood in water, crushing the smooth contours. Bulma panicked, desperately trying to scrape it off with her bare hands. She called out for help but nobody came.

 

Powerless to stop it, the engine withered and curled until it was nothing more than a pile of orange dust at her feet. She fell to her knees, grasping at it, desperately trying to put it back together again but it was gone.

 

Bulma woke with a jolt, her body shaking and nausea gripping her throat, threatening to turn her stomach. It was just a dream. Her rational mind chided her for believing, if only for a second, in a ghost. But even still…it had all be so real and like trying to catch a wisp of smoke in her hand it had disappeared; Basil, the engine - all of it. She was all alone again.

 

Bulma stared at the ceiling until her head ached and her muscles grew stiff. She let her cot gently sway back and forth in the weak, icy stream of air that trickled through the grate in the ceiling. She had no way of knowing for sure but she guessed it had to be the middle of ‘night’ by now, whatever that meant in a place that was perpetually dark,  and by the sound of it all of the saiyans were dead asleep. She decided she preferred the suffocating silence to the yearning of her dreams.

 

For hours now she had thought of getting up and walking through the halls in order to quiet her mind, just like she used to do back home. But she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. Eventually the need to calm her racing thoughts won and she slipped from beneath the worn sheet and left the safety of her room to pad through the ship.

 

* * *

 

She wandered through the maze of hallways, down to the engine room taking in the stillness that she hadn't felt in weeks. It was _filemu_ as the saiyans would've said. She told herself that she hadn’t gone down to check and make sure the engine was still in tact and had not, in fact, turned to a rusty pile of ash, but deep down she knew that was exactly what she was doing.

 

When she arrived she turned the dial on the wall, breathing in the metallic stench with relief. Everything was as she had left it that night before bed. She turned to leave but she stopped. Gingerly she walked back to the engine and knelt down where Basil had stood, reaching underneath.

 

She pulled her hand back out. Nothing but black soot. She shook her head at her own ridiculousness and resolved to never speak to anyone about it.

 

Padding quietly through the ship she let the peace calm her agitated mind until she found her way to the mess hall. She let herself get lost in the winding pathways and access tunnels until she found something familiar. She had gone through the kitchen hoping to find her door but instead she found herself in front of the wall.

 

She found herself directly in front of the wall. It was covered from ceiling to floor and it seemed that every time she looked at it she found something she hadn't seen before.

 

There were just so many of them. Her mind twisted and turned down the rocky path of “what if’s”. Tracing her hands over the wall of fallen saiyans she let her mind spiral deeper and deeper into the pit of her stomach and let it soak in the sour ache that she had held there since her arrival.

 

None of this _had_ to happen, none of it would’ve happened. Her life was-

 

The hatch hissed open and Bulma jumped, pulling her hand away from the wall as if it would bite her. She could feel her heartbeat tremble in her fingers as she gripped them close to her chest.

 

Her mind raced as it asked her questions faster than she could possibly answer them. If she screamed would anyone hear her? Would they care? Could she find her way back and wake someone before they got to her? The blood curdling screams of that night still haunted her. Her imagination ran wild thinking of all the horrible things they would do to her before they finally killed her.

 

She flattened herself against the wall, shrinking into the corner. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She heard heavy footsteps as the intruder made their way closer and closer to the mess hall.

 

“Oh, it’s _you_.” she huffed with disdain. Bulma was both relieved and irritated to see Vegeta. Relieved it wasn't some strange, murderous psychopath she had never seen before and irritated it was a strange, murderous psychopath she knew.

 

He said nothing, simply stumbling over his own feet and catching himself against the door frame to the mess hall. She was furious at herself for being so afraid and more so at Vegeta for scaring her, but it was so much more than that. Alone, in the dark, just the two of them she felt bolder than ever before. The questions that had plagued her for over a month now bubbled to the surface like boiling water splashing from a pot.

 

“Tell me why you did it."

 

He stared at her dizzily as though he didn’t understand what she was saying.

 

“Why did you come to my ship?” He looked as surprised as she felt by her own outburst. Taking a step back, his knee buckled and he barely caught himself on the wall.

 

“We needed parts.” he stated matter of factly, shrugging as casually as he could muster.

 

“This is all your fault.” she shoved his shoulders, slamming his back into the wall and eliciting a pained groan, all the time his expression like marble, unmoved and unphased. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, she stepped forward with renewed vigor and snapped at him again, driving her finger into his chest. “Stoks, Goku, Basil, Yamcha. They're dead because of _you._ ” she spat, surprising herself as tears rolled down her round cheeks.

 

He was incredibly easy to push over and she wondered why she had ever been afraid of him in the first place. His stoic features twisted into a mask of pure disgust.

 

“How can you sleep at night?” She hissed.

 

“Don’t speak to me about loss, _little girl_ . You know _nothing_ of suffering.” she took a step back. “How many people have you lost, mmm?”

 

She found herself mouth agape.

 

“Tell me.” he shouted.

 

“There were at least seventy-four crewmen on the capsule.”

 

“You lost nearly one hundred men, mmm? Is that all?” He laughed at her, a hoarse barking laughter. Something about his shift in behaviour made her uneasy and she took another step back. “These five are not only the last of my crew. They are the last of our race.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“We are the last of all saiyans. You have lost one ship. I have lost _everyone_. So do not profess to know about pain or loss, you foolish little girl.” he hissed poisonously through gritted teeth as he pushed himself back up the wall with shaking arms. “If your friends had been stronger maybe they would’ve survived.”

 

His words hit her like a steel bar colliding with the center of her chest, pain rippling through her like a shockwave. In a blinding rage she threw herself at him, beating her balled fists against his chest.

 

He stared at her, head cocked to the side in idle curiosity, unwavered.

 

“Ua uma**?” he asked.

 

“E toeitiiti***, You bastard!.” she screamed, her voice breaking.

 

Before she knew what she was doing her hands were at his throat. She clawed into his skin, squeezing as tightly as she could.

 

A rough growl came from his crushed throat. His black eyes danced with fire but still he stood unshaken. Through her blinding rage she could barely believe it. He was _laughing_ at her. His hand set casually upon hers and with little effort broke the iron grip of her hands leaving them slippery and wet. It pulled her from her rage.

 

He chuckled, eyes alight with amusement, his shaking legs threatening to collapse underneath him. “Feel better now, mmm?”

 

“You're a monster.” she snapped back. He toppled forward, barely catching himself with his trembling arms before his face collided with her shoulder. He looked...surprised.

 

“I hate you.” she seethed, tears streaming down her face as she slapped his hands away from her shoulders.

 

Vegeta stumbled drunkenly backwards. “I don’t care.” he growled, holding the fabric of his shirt tight, and wincing as he steadied himself.  His eyes fluttered as he collapsed, falling into her. They toppled to the floor. His rigid body went limp. He was incredibly heavy and he wasn’t moving. For a moment she thought he was dead. Panic gripped her squirming heart.

 

“Hey...Hey Vegeta.” she could hear the mounting desperation in her own voice as she shook his shoulders. “This...isn't funny...stop it.” His head lolled to the side as she frantically tried to wake him. She leaned in closer, he was breathing, but just barely.

 

Bulma shouted desperately for anyone, whipping her head around. She held Vegeta close, cradling him against her chest, a stark contrast to just moments before when her hands wrapped around his throat trying to crush the life from him. The two of them tangled on the floor in the mess hall.

 

She shouted until she felt her voice crumbling into sniveling tears. She looked around frantically.

 

Nappa turned the dial on the wall and the lights in the mess hall sparked to life, humming noisily as they did so. He blinked sleepily, scratching his bare chest and yawning. He caught sight of Vegeta curled tightly in Bulma’s lap, he made an awkward wide-eyed expression that turned into a smile only Nappa could have smiled.

 

“Should I come back later?” his eyebrows bounced up and down as he spoke.

 

Bulma couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth but no words came, she simply lifted her hands that dripped with warm blood and held them out towards him.

 

* * *

 

The stillness of the night was shattered with the desperate shouts and bare feet that pounded against the floors.  

 

A smattering of Common and Saiyan melted in the background, but Bulma heard none of it. Someone pried Vegeta’s limp body from her arms. She scooted back, staring at her arms and chest, blood pooled in splotches across her skin and clothes and dripped through the grated floor.

 

Bardock was there now, and so was Tschev. They both knelt over where Nappa had laid Vegeta on the floor. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they sounded urgent. Bardock yelled something at the door, pointing at Bulma.  
  
Suddenly Lato knelt next to her.

 

“We need to know what happened.” She said.  
  
“Oh...uh…” Bulma tried to think, embarrassed that she couldn’t remember a mere 30 seconds ago. “I… oh… umm…” she was suddenly not so sure she should tell them the truth, but Lato’s eyes told her it was important. “...we were fighting. I hit him.” she said.

 

Despite the gravity in the room, just about everyone except Bulma managed something from a snort to a chortle.  
  
“Oh yeah, that’s rich. Come on, tell us straight, Soesa.” Nappa said.  
  
“No, really.” Bulma replied. “He came in, he was kind of...wobbly. We got in an argument, and of course he was being his usual jerk self and made me mad so I smacked him a bit, then he just… fell on me.”

“Hm.” Bardock said. The commotion in the room picked back up as Bulma’s answer seemed to satisfy everyone and they continued to speak so quickly to one another in Saiyan that Bulma couldn’t make any of it out. She watched as Bardock and Tschev gingerly lifted him up and carried him out of the mess hall. Nappa had an armful of roots and a couple of small, dead lizards and followed after them.

 

Bulma felt herself being pulled up by her arm. She looked up to meet Raditz’s worried eyes. They were softer than his usually fiery mischievous look.

 

“You okay, Soesa?”

 

She nodded numbly.

 

“Is...do you think he’s going to be okay?” Bulma felt herself picking at her nails nervously.

 

“To be honest,” Raditz chuckled nervously. “Every time this happens I worry that he won’t be.”

 

“What do you mean, every time?”

 

“Vegeta is probably the strongest Saiyan in the last thousand years. There’s a cost that goes along with that. Despite his strength, we’re all still nothing to Frieza, so Vegeta trains. He pushes himself so hard to attain the Senikai. It’s the only way we’ll ever defeat him.”  
  
Bulma had no idea was a _zenkai_ was, but before she could ask for further clarification, Nappa’s head poked back in from the doorframe.

 

“Hey, _Soesa!”_ he said, a bit of lizard still on his chin. We’re going to need you in the medical bay, like, yesterday.”

 

Before she could say anything to Raditz, Nappa’s hand somehow reached her and dragged her along through the hallways as she wondered what they could possibly need an engineer for in a medical bay.

 

* * *

 

Bulma stumbled into the room wide-eyed and nervous, she wiped the mixture of sweat and blood from her hands on her shorts but they still felt wet and dirty. Before she had the chance to speak Nappa had stepped behind her and clapped his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Here she is.” he barked loudly in her ear.

 

“Hurry up. Get over here and put these on.” Tschev snapped without looking up, she threw a pair of gloves at Bulma so fast she barely had time to catch them.B Vegeta was laying on the operating table and, Bulma leaned over staring at the horrifying sight. There was a long incision in Vegeta’s abdomen that seemed to bubble with blood. By the looks of it, Tschev had already started work before realizing she was going to need help. Bulma thought she was going to be sick.

 

“Wait...I-”

 

“Ta!” Tschev growled. “I don’t want to hear it. Do what I tell you. Now.” Bulma pulled the gloves on and stepped closer to the table. Tschev ripped his shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it on the counter behind her. Blood pooled beneath him, dribbling off the edges of the table.

 

Bulma steadied herself on the wall, feeling lightheaded. There was _so much blood._

 

“Hey, hey!” Tschev yelled, snapping her fingers in Bulma’s face. “He’s bleeding internally, and as you can see, externally. We need to stitch some things up quick-like or he’s not going to make it and Lato says _you_ , of all people, have steady hands.”  
  
Bulma shot a look to Lato, who was leaning against the far wall. She returned the look with a shrug.  
  
“I’ve seen you work on the engine and manage some delicate things, figured this isn’t too different.” She said. “In any case, you’re a better pick than butter-fingers here.” She gestured at Nappa.  
  
“Hey, I can be surprisingly gentle!” Nappa protested. “When I wanna be.”  
  
“Would you all just shut up! I need an extra pair of hands in here, not flappin’ jaws” Tschev screamed. “Hey, _pipilo_.” she pointed at Nappa. “Get out.”

 

“How come Lato gets to stay?” He complained.  
  
“She doesn’t blow steam right-side out her ass and she doesn’t smell like you do.” came the retort.  
  
“Ok, fine.” He stumbled out reaching back in to grab the last root from the counter near the door.

 

Tschev locked eyes with Bulma. “Don’t think this changes anything between us, because it doesn’t.” she said. Her tone told Bulma she was serious. “I can do the stitching, but I’ll need you to hold some things. Just think of it like being a mechanic but instead of metal components, you’ve got squishy ones.”  
  
“Uh….” Bulma said.  
  
“Listen.” Tschev’s eyes _almost_ softened. “If you don’t do this, he’s dead, and that means, we’re dead. So take a breath, lose your lunch if you gotta, then get in here.”  
  
“I can’t believe I’m doing this….” Bulma said, though it sounded increasingly like a squeak as she spoke.  
  
“Here’s everythin’.” Tschev said, “Start by gently holding his liver out of the way there…”  
  
Bulma let out a squeal as she watched Tschev begin her work, praying she could fix Vegeta faster than Bulma could fix an engine.

* * *

* * *

 

Amended Translations: 

 

*Oga ‘ua ‘oki lo kakou uso ‘o Sitokisi; Lato, o le’a ‘e fai ai ma sui mo ‘ia. Fa’amalamalama i le soesa ‘o le uiga o le fa’aloalo. - Because our brother Stoks is dead, Lato you will fill in for him. Make the soesa (or the annoyance) understand the meaning of respect.

 

**Ua uma? - Are you finished?

 

***E toeitiiti, You bastard! - Almost, you bastard!

xoxo, 

 

Mo & Hanko


	8. Hard Times

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: HARD TIMES**

* * *

 

_While we all sup sorrow with the poor…_

_There’s a pale sorrowed maiden who toils her life away_

_With a worn heart whose better days are o’er..._

* * *

 

Bulma chewed on the rough skin around her fingernails, obsessively biting at the edges of the peeling calluses that had formed from years of mechanical work. She had been standing so long her feet ached. Leaning against the counter in the corner she stared blankly forward at Vegeta.

 

Since that time the table and floor had been sloppily cleaned of most of the pooling blood, leaving only a few patches where the dark red had dried which had been left to stick and peel from bare feet and boots. She didn't blame them. Judging by the way things had gone so far, it wouldn't be long until someone dirtied the floor again.

 

It had taken her and Tschev nearly six hours to complete their work. Tschev had worked tirelessly at a furious pace, speaking only to Bulma when she needed something done.

 

Every moment had felt like an eternity.

 

Two days had passed and he was worse for the wear. He was alive but she wouldn’t say he was doing _well_. He had lost an incredible amount of blood and needed more stitches than she cared to count. Dripping in sweat and shivering, curled on his side, knees to his chest. Twitching and groaning, fingers digging into his bandaged palms, soaking them with blood and twisting the sheet this way and that.

 

Bulma felt her resolve fizzling into stinging tears.  She had worked on the engine all day, everyday, and came by the medical bay each night before she retired to her room. Every part they had salvaged from the crashed escape pod from the Capsule wouldn’t work with the ship’s engine for one reason or another.

 

And it just so happened that today had been a particularly bad day; her one good wrench snapped in half when she tried to loosen a rusty bolt. The bolt stripped and the wrench broke and to top it all off there he was.

 

Nothing had changed and something deep inside her felt sickeningly responsible for all of it. She hated herself for the things she had said.

 

Bulma was pulled from her stupor by a hand that slapped the doorframe above her head. She jumped.

 

_Damn saiyans._

 

Raditz smiled at her playfully. “Aw. Don’t be so tense _Soesa._ You act like you seen a ghost.”

 

_Not funny. Not even a little bit._

 

She let her hands fall to her sides, chewing on her lip, numbly. “What do you need Rad?”

 

“Rad? I like that.” He laughed, tossling her hair and scrunching his nose. “Nappa sent me over. It’s time for grub.”

 

She waved her hand at him dismissively as her gaze slowly returned to Vegeta. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

 

He stopped, turning his head to the side.

 

“All my eye.” he laughed, she looked at him with a confused expression.

 

“It means, you’re a liar.”

 

“Gee, thanks.”

 

“Look _Soesa_ you been doin’ this for days now in ‘n out and starin' him down like you're ‘bout to bury him. You gotta take a break, fight a little, eat. Gotta keep those steady hands. Never know when we could need ‘em.” he grabbed her hands from where they were folded across her chest and held them outright, resting the pads of his fingers under hers.

 

Her hands shook violently.

 

“Mmm.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “See? No good.” he shook his head at her and smiled. “This just won’t do. ‘Sides, a saiyan never says no to food. It’s rude.”

 

“But…” she turned to look back at Vegeta. She couldn’t just leave him like he was. Could she?

 

“Hey,” he squeezed her shoulder gently. “He’s gonna be okay. He’s been in worse shape before.”

 

* * *

 

Bulma followed Raditz to the campfire hesitantly. She thumbed the edges of Stoks’s pendant, running the pads of her fingers of the rough etching as they marched through the darkness towards the glow of the fire. He was right, she was hungry and if she was going to keep the pace she had set on the engine she was going to need to eat. She simply didn’t want to.

 

The food was unappetizing enough as it was, but it was more than just that. Bulma was tired and she felt completely, utterly hopeless. Today she had reaffirmed the depressing conclusion that there was no way she could repair the engine without additional parts. But how was she supposed to get them, stranded on a dying planet?

Nappa shook his head as Bardock spit a mouthful of blood in front of his feet at the fire.

 

“I heard tell you meant to pick this fight Bardock.” Nappa chuckled. “That true?”

 

“Now, what gave you a crazy idea like that.” Bardock smirked mischievously, as he wiped the blood from his mouth.

 

“She’s got you by the ears, boy.” he boomed, slapping Bardock on the back as he walked past him.

 

“Do I wish we had a _real_ Sawbone round these parts.” Nappa whined, tossing the roots on the hot coals, showering the ground in sparks.

 

“You do. I'm your Saw and I don’t wanna hear no whining. All you filthy Jacks are still alive.” Tschev griped, chewing on her swollen, split lip.

 

“Yeah but you're one mad mab.” he laughed giving her a crazy look as he wiped dirt off the edges of the small instrument he held in his hands. “God, I miss Kino.” Nappa boomed as he played a few token notes.

 

Bulma had never seen anything quite like it. It sounded like a harmonica but it was round and the top was covered in tiny holes. It was comical to think of such a large man playing an instrument that was no more than four inches from side to side. He ran his tongue along the edge of it, wiping it on his filthy pants to clean it.

 

“Now there was a Saw. Good man too.” Bardock lamented as he sat, leaning forward and resting his one elbow on his knee. He opened his mouth to speak but Nappa interrupted him.

 

“Good ‘ole, reliable ‘ole Kino.” Nappa stoked  the fire with a large stick laughing to himself, slapping Bardock on the back. Bardock sighed nonchalantly. “You know what Kino always used to say, huh? _You have to walk before you can crawl._ ”

 

Raditz chuckled as he pulled his long hair back twisting it in a bun on the top of his head. “Kino never said that you dolt.”

 

Leaning forward, his hand on his right knee, Nappa laughed heartily and grabbed a root from the bed of glowing coals taking a large bite. He spoke, the mouthful of dried, charred plant spilling from his mouth. “Y’know, this rubbish always tasted better when Stoks was around.”

 

They all muttered in agreement as they ate. Even though they may have hated the food even more than before, it didn't seem to slow them down any.

 

“Yeah it's on account a’ Raditz being a worse hunter than a fighter.” Tschev snorted ripping the skin from a dried lizard with her teeth.

 

Raditz didn’t respond, his face flushing with embarrassment as he slumped onto the log opposite his father.

 

Bulma made her way to a log at the edge of the campfire and shimmied in between Bardock and Raditz. She bunched up the sleeves of Stoks’s shirt in her palms and leaned her chin on her hands. She watched the flames of the pit fire dance, licking the black sky.  

 

Blood ran down Bardock’s forehead and over his blind eye. It swirled across the white before dribbling down his cheek.

 

“What happened to you?” Bulma questioned Bardock.

 

“Nothing o’ import.” He wiped the blood away with the pad of his thumb, sniffling and pulling a cigarette free from it’s tin with his teeth. The blood ran down his jaw and dripped from his chin onto the dust below.

 

“Maybe you should get that looked at, it’s bleeding a lot.”

 

Bardock chuckled as he lit the cigarette. “Heads always do, kid. It ain’t no thing.”

 

“Maybe Tschev-” she instantly regretted the words that spilled from her mouth.

 

“Don’t feel bad for him _Soesa_. He made his jack. ‘Sides...don’t think she’ll be too keen.” Raditz cut in. He snickered, flipping around the knife he was using to skin the roots. “See she gave it to him.” She could hear Tschev scoff.

 

“Hey, _pa’umutu*!”_ Tschev spit out a bone and shouted, staring right at Bulma.

 

When no one responded Bulma followed Tschev’s gaze, looking around her. “Me?”

 

“Yeah, you. Wanna play a game?” Tschev called her twisted smile alight from the other side of the flames. She stood, pulling a pistol from the holster on her thigh.

 

“N-...no?” Bulma responded, wide-eyed as Tschev walked barefoot across the hot coals towards her.

 

“Hey, watch it.” Nappa grumbled. “You’re muckin’ up the grub.”

 

Tschev stood in front of her, staring down at Bulma, who found herself scooting closer and closer to Bardock, nestled behind his arm.

 

“Aw,” Tschev clicked her tongue in amusement. “Don’t be afraid. It’s very easy to play. I’ll teach ya.” She clicked the cylinder of the pistol and flicked it with her thumb sending it spinning. “See? Empty.” She held the barrel out to Bulma and Bulma peered inside cautiously as though it might jump out of Tschev’s hand and bite her.

 

“Just takes one bullet.” She lingered on the last word as she pulled one free from the bandolier strapped across her chest and slid it in the barrel, then she clicked it into place and spun it. She pulled on the hammer with her thumb, letting it clack loudly. Pointing the gun between Bulma’s eyes her face split into a twisted grin.

 

“That’s enough.” Bardock growled swooping Bulma behind him so quickly she fell off the log and landed on her back. He stepped forward, towering over Tschev, her gun pressed into the bare skin of his chest. “Go ahead _sa’a**._ ” his hoarse voice was low, almost inaudible. He glared down at her, blowing smoke in her face and she growled back up at him.

 

“‘Ua lava, ga!***”

 

And with a word, as quickly as it had nearly begun, the fight between the two saiyans crumbled to ash. Tschev lowered her gun and Bardock took a step back, slinging his thumb through the loop of his bandolier and leaning heavily on one leg.

 

Bulma craned her neck at the familiar voice, blinking into the darkness.

 

_Vegeta?_

 

There was _no way._

 

It couldn’t be him. It had been less than seventy-two hours since she and Tschev had sliced him open and stitched him back together again. Mopping the pooling blood up with rags and digging about inside his body to mend the rips and tears.

 

Yet there he was.

 

The campfire fell eerily silent at his approach. Vegeta walked slowly and deliberately into the light, his arm wrapped around his side carefully. Deep, dark circles cradled his tired eyes and his lips were dry and cracked. He had been worse, felt worse, but that didn’t mean much. He cringed as he swallowed, his throat sticking to itself.

 

He stepped around the small boulder at the head of the campfire and leaned on the rock, nearly losing his footing. Everyone seemed to hold their breath in anticipation but no one made a move. Bulma watched the other saiyans with care as they took their places around the fire and waiting for him to speak. No one spoke, no one ate or drank. They only watched and waited.

 

Finally he spoke, running his teeth over his bottom lip and scraping against the dry skin, he cleared his throat. “I’m hungry.”

 

And with that everything returned to the commotion Bulma had grown so used to.

 

Lato grabbed a tin cup and filled it with water, leaning forward across her folded legs and passing it to him while Nappa picked out the least burnt roots from the charcoals and passed them to Vegeta.

 

“Good to have ya back.” he boomed. “You were on the gut hook for a hot minute there.”

 

Vegeta ran his fingers through his bangs, pushing them back into his hair and glaring as they spilled back into his sight. He shoved the root into his mouth and tore into it’s dry flesh, chasing it down with water and passing the cup back to Lato for more.

 

“Little _Soesa_ is mashed, real good-like. Weepin’ for ya like a grass widow.” Nappa winked at her with a wide grin, laughing obnoxiously. Bulma did not find any of this the least bit amusing.

 

She couldn’t understand what that was supposed to mean but shot Nappa a venomous look anyways. She turned her attention back to Vegeta who was shovelling food into his mouth sleepily and wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. “You almost died. You needed major surgery, you shouldn’t be walking around. You’re going to hurt yourself.” She protested.

 

He ignored her, shoving the last of his fourth root into his mouth and slowly scratching his stomach. His face twisted in discomfort. He reached down into his boot and pulled out his knife. Turning it around with a flourish he lifted his shirt and aimed the knife at his stomach. Before Bulma could scream he slid the knife down the edge of the long incision, slicing through the stitches. Making a high _pling, pling, pling_ as the blade pulled the strings taut and broke them. Carelessly flipping the knife in the air he caught it and shoved it back into his boot. Bulma watched in horror as he pulled the strings out one by one and dropped them on the ground. Yawning lazily, his canines glinting in the light of the fire.

 

Mouth agape, her eyes were glued to the incision that was now nearly completely healed. It was more than unlikely, it was _impossible_. He was brushing cheeks with Death just a couple of days before. He leaned forward and plucked another root off the fire grumbling to himself.

 

“Better.” He grumbled.

 

It was quickly becoming apparent to Bulma that the saiyans were more different from humans than she had previously thought.

 

The saiyans laughed uproariously. As if it had been the sign they were looking for. With that one word, their captain had made everything okay. He was alive and they were alive and that was enough for them. The conversation rolled back and forth, like waves crashing into each other. Bulma had always considered herself a social person but she found the nature of the saiyans overwhelming at best.

 

“Wanna hear something to make your skin creep?” Nappa leaned in to the campfire, whispering loudly.

 

“Crawl.” Lato corrected calmly.

 

“No.” Tschev and Raditz echoed.

 

“What would you say if I told you one them purgers is still out there. Done got away that night, absquatulated somewhere out there. Sniffin' around...I seen him with my own two eyes. Smelled ‘im.” Nappa’s eyes widened as he spoke.

 

“Boil your shit.” Tschev snorted as she sorted the last of the roots in one pile and the critters in another, emptying the sack and tossing it aside.

 

“Sure you weren't just smelling yourself?” Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

 

Everyone burst into fits of laughter and guffaws as they continued the relentless assault on Nappa.

 

“Laugh all you want. But cha won't be laughing when them purgers come into the ship in the dead of night and slice your belly lengthsides from here to here.” he motioned across his gut with a finger.

 

Bulma looked around. She seemed to be the only one even mildly concerned.

 

“It’s always night here, stupid.” Raditz griped.

 

The group had rapidly moved on to another subject, ignoring Nappa and his tale of woe. She had questions, too many questions to let the conversation go just yet.

 

“Wait…what are purgers?” Bulma’s mouth felt incredibly dry and she reached for a tin, scooping from the pit of water and nursing it.

 

Of all of the questions she had ever asked, the saiyans seemed the most surprised by this one.

 

“Frieza’s foot soldiers.” Lato replied calmly as she flipped a coal back into the fire with her boot.

 

“Why don’t you just call them soldiers then? Why purgers?”

 

Vegeta looked at her quizzically, his eyes narrowing. “ _Soesa_...do you know who Frieza is?”

 

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared as they waited for her response, their expressions a mix of disbelief and confusion. It was almost comical in a way, and she fought the urge to laugh nervously.

 

“No. I don’t know who this Frieza that you keep talking about is. I’ve never heard of him before in my life.”

 

They muttered amongst themselves and talked over each other, more intent on expressing how surprising it was that she had not known of Frieza than of correcting her and explaining things.

 

Once again Vegeta’s voice cut through the commotion, instantly silencing it.

 

“He is the heir to the Cold Kingdom and Lord of the eight sectors and provinces of the galaxy. Curator of Worlds and Destroyer of Moons. The most powerful and ruthless tyrant the universe has ever known.”

 

“Frieza heard tell of the saiyan race. We were fierce and proud warriors. Known to some only as the howlers.” Lato added switching her folded legs and dusting red earth from her pants.

 

“Because you can hear the screams of our victims from outer space.” Nappa, his eyebrows animatedly raised, once again whispering loudly.

 

“You can’t hear anything in space, Nappa.” Raditz commented, reaching forward for more food.

 

Vegeta ignored them and continued. “He had heard legends of The Howlers, a powerful people with an unrivaled bloodlust. He came to our world to enslave us and we resisted his dominion. More than half our people died in a single valiant and honorable battle. That morning as the suns rose over the dark seas the waters washed ashore red with the blood of fallen saiyans. The king stood on the shore at the massacre of the night and he made a choice. He relented control to Frieza, resigning himself to be little more than a figurehead.” the cicadas echoed loudly in the night but the campfire was still and silent. “Even that sacrifice could not save his people.”

 

Bulma’s gaze met Vegeta’s, something swirled in his dark eyes. Her heart sat in her throat, fluttering like a bird.

 

“Why does Frieza want to kill you Vegeta?”

 

“That is a very long story for another time.” He responded coolly.

 

Lato continued calmly. “During that time thousands of saiyans were born, fought, and died under Frieza without ever knowing their true heritage, only a misplaced loyalty to the maniac that destroyed their world.”  

 

“Even Tschev here was a smutch rat.” Raditz chimed in.

 

She lifted her eyebrows in affirmation as she tore through the skin of snake. “Born n’ bred on the purge vessel Defiant, can work my way around them class four vessels with my eyes closed. Never set foot on homeworld.”

 

“What did you mean when you said Stoks had been sent to purge the planet?”

 

“Ornio wasn’t none of a threat to Frieza. No military, no organized government,” Bardock laughed hoarsely. “Hell, them folks didn’t even know how to use a proper gun. No weapons of any kind. Just a buncha swamp folks. But they had somethin’ he wanted. Stoks said he guessed it was the core of the planet. Had some precious metals or something of the like inside of it. Wadn’t about to send a whole purge team to pillage a planet of river rats. So…” he tossed back the water like it was a shot of whiskey and cleared his throat. “He sent Stoks. Kid was knee high to a crow when he was shipped off. Barely knew any Saiyan when we met.” he chuckled nostalgically.  

 

“He was just a kid?” Bulma muttered in disbelief.

 

“‘ _I_. But he wadn’t the only one” Bardock continued. “Didn’t start off that way, but before long all our children were sent away. Even saiyan children can be quite formidable, y’see? Be a waste to send whole squads to planets what can’t put up much of a fight. My son got sent off fresh out the cradle. Never got to see him. His bones are turning to dust on some godforsaken M-class planet somewhere.”

 

Bulma was rapidly taking it all in but was shocked at the revelation that Bardock had another son. “Wait. Where was your son sent?” Bulma nearly jumped off the log, clasping Bardock’s knee. He looked almost surprised but his expression ended up a mix of mild annoyance and exhaustion.

 

“Don’t know. Some blue M-class in the sixth quadrant.”

 

“That’s...that sounds like where I’m from. My best friend Goku is insanely strong, has a ridiculous appetite, even had a tail just like yours. He even _looks just like you,_ Bardock _!_ I’m telling you. He’s a saiyan. He’s gotta be. I mean, he’s a _lmost exactly_ like you guys. Except, you’re all so angry and Goku would never hurt a fly.” she realised how insulting the words sounded as they fell out of her mouth but the saiyans didn’t seem bothered at all by her assumption.

 

She could see their eyes as each of them fought the urge to entertain the idea of another survivor somewhere out there in the galaxy.

 

“Don’t sound like no saiyan to me.” Nappa cut in.

 

“Well, Stoks was a pacifist, wasn’t he? A-and he was a saiyan. Surely you can’t _all_ be...” she chose her next words carefully, they barely squeaked past her lips. “...as aggressive.”

 

Bardock cut the tension with a slow, deliberate sigh, muttering something under his breath. Before he lifted another cigarette from his tin with his teeth.

 

“What’s that name ‘o his again, kid?”

 

“Goku.”

 

“Sorry kid.” he chuckled, the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice. “My son’s name was Kakarot. Goku ain’t no Saiyan name. Nappa’s right. Don’t sound like no saiyan to me.”

 

They muttered in agreement. Before long the conversation was swept off to other matters weaving in and out of common and saiyan and switching faster than even Bulma could follow. She let her mind wander, chewing over what they had said.

 

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.” They stared at her expectantly. “You said there was more than one, there was a team, a purge team? Frieza’s purge team, yeah?”

 

“Yeah?” Nappa questioned.

 

Vegeta ignored her frantic outburst, tearing into the last bit of a root and chasing it down with water.

 

Bulma rolled her eyes at the group that stared at her blankly. “How did they get here?”

 

She watched the lights flicker on in their eyes as they all came to the same conclusion she had.

 

“We need to find their ship.”

 

* * *

 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” the voice slithered through the dark as Frieza circled the prisoner, his long toes curling around the grate in the floor as he walked. “Where are the others?”

 

Obstinance was one of the many things Frieza found simply intolerable. He was beginning to feel mildly annoyed.

 

“I told you. I don’t know anything.” the man’s voice begged for reprieve as he struggled to keep his head up, his messy dark locks falling into his eyes. His muscles twitched violently, his arms slung wide and wrapped in chains that hung from the ceiling of the holding cell.

 

Frieza slapped his tail against the floor, breaking a grate tile and sending the two halves flying. The only sounds that could be heard were the echoes of the metal as it collided with the wall and the ragged breaths of the prisoner.

 

Frieza took a deep breath and walked over to the prisoner, his tail slithering up the man’s front and wrapping around his throat.

 

He began to tighten his hold. Relishing in the sounds of strangulation as the man gasped for air.  Frieza leaned in closely, craning his neck to lock eyes with the man. He hissed into his ear.

 

“Tell me...where is Vegeta?”

 

* * *

* * *

  


AN: Thanks so much for reading! We'd love to hear what you think. Just wanna reiterate for you guys, Google Translate does NOT work well with Samoan (the language we based Saiyan on). We know because Hanko is fluent in it. If you have any questions about language just drop it in the comments below and we will be happy to translate it for you.

 

Comments, thoughts, horrifying revelations??? 

 

Let us know! 

 

xoxo, 

Hanko & Mo

* * *

 

AN amended: 

 

Mo here!

Hey-o! We have received a lot of feedback about translations so we are going back in and adding footnote translations starting with this chapter and working backwards. They will appear in the new chapters automatically. 

 

*pa'umutu - slut

**sa'a - a derogatory term for a short person

***‘Ua lava, ga! - That's enough!


	9. Pale and Paralyzed

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: PALE & PARALYZED**

* * *

_Even the walls are shaking her down_   
_And breaking her mind with unsettling sounds_   
_Courage collapses and uncertainty reigns_ _  
_ She tries to summon the strength to thunder through it again

* * *

 

 

Vegeta paced brusquely across the room, his toes digging into the rough tapestry beneath his bare feet. As he stomped around he stared at the intricate patterns and designs below him. The rug was completely worn to threads in some places. He wondered if he were to pick it up if the whole thing would turn to dust. He would never risk it. It was more than sentimental, it was sacred. Ancient, an heirloom of the past. A lost art of a dead race and one like it would never be made again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, banishing the sentiment that had crept its way up his tired limbs and into his chest.

 

He slung off his shoulder holster, letting his guns clatter to the floor. Crossing his ankles he dropped down on the rug before his thoughts got away from him. Thick white lines punctuated the deep purples and yellows. He rubbed his hands along the welted scars that ran the length of the soles of his feet. They ached. They _always_ ached but they were being particularly irritating today. Rough nights will do funny things to a man like that and he hadn't known a good night's rest in his life. He drove his fist into the arch of his foot, twisting it and turning it, forcing the muscles to relax.

 

He felt his tail tighten about his waist as the pain got the better of him. He cursed himself. If he had had better control of his faculties, of his mind, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now. He wouldn’t have blown himself half to hell and back either.

 

Weakness served one purpose and one purpose alone: to propel him forward. But if he wasn’t careful it would weigh on him like the weight of a planet upon his shoulders and open the door to the slithering darkness that was his mind.

 

_If only he had known, if only he had been stronger, if only..._

 

Thousands of years of art, language, culture, and history destroyed in a single instance. He screwed his eyes shut and pushed his fist further into his foot, rerouting his rushing thoughts to the pain in his feet that shot up his leg and prickled his tail.

 

After all, the saiyans were gone and no one and nothing in the entire universe could change that. What could mewling over it now do?

 

No. He needed to be patient and the time would come. He would break every bone a hundred times over if that’s what was required to make him ready.

 

If they ever got off this godforsaken rock...

 

Then there was the matter of the _girl_. He dropped his head between his knees and sighed. He had already taken great care to ensure that she was always supervised. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.

 

He wasn’t nearly as stupid or oblivious as she thought...and he liked it that way. He knew she was keeping secrets and he didn’t blame her. He had done the same thing countless times. He didn't trust her and she didn't trust him and that's the way it should be.

 

Throughout the course of his youth, he had been captured, tortured, and enslaved. Frieza would never mount a rescue mission for Vegeta or pay a ransom. Vegeta and the other remnants of the saiyans were simply expendable to him. If he died, he died and someone stronger would come along to take his place.

 

Every time Vegeta found his way back to Frieza the punishment was worse than what he had managed to survive. Failure and weakness were unacceptable. He wasn't an asset as much as he was a plaything, a trinket or token to remind him of his victory over the barbaric _Howlers_.

 

It had been on Vegeta and Vegeta alone to survive...until the others had come along. Still, a part of him kept even his crewmates at arm's length. He had never trusted anyone. Life had never afforded him any kindness. He had never gotten a leg up. The rod had never been spared. Not once.

 

It was becoming increasingly apparent that Vegeta and the girl had very little in common. The more comfortable she became with his crew the more often she spoke wistfully of her home and her family, spoke of her friends and adventures with tears in her eyes.

 

Vegeta’s life _could_ be called an adventure but the word nightmare felt much more fitting. He had thought about it more than once. She was strange and he didn’t understand her. It was curious that she so desperately clung to the memories to push her through the scorching, endless night. He found himself doing just the opposite. The less he thought of the purges, the less he thought of Frieza, of his family, the better. He wasn’t a fool. He hadn’t forgotten and he didn’t need to be reminded. His entire existence, his whole life served one purpose and everything he did was designed solely to attain it. He was born to destroy Frieza.

 

And he would, even if it killed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma was sure she had found nearly every broken part in the engine and with Bardock’s help, pulled them out. The entire left side of the engine-room floor was covered in broken parts and tools that needed to be replaced. She shimmied backward out of the jeffries tube and carefully slid down the side of the engine block, looking for an empty place to set the broken belts she had removed.

 

“You mind?” Bardock asked as he pulled a cigarette from the tin he carried in his pocket.

 

“ _Leai.*_ ” she stepped carefully around the scattered parts. “Actually, the smell helps me work. Reminds me of my father,” she said thoughtfully.

 

“Hmm.” he mused as he lit the cigarette.

 

“I think that’s all of it Bardock.” she dusted her hands and placed them on her hips. Bardock leaned against the wall as he chewed on the end of his cigarette. He looked just as dejected as he always did. Almost numb. “Try to look a little less excited, okay?” She teased.

 

“Mmm.”

 

She laughed as she surveyed their handiwork. Sweat dripped down the small of her back and was caught by Stoks’s shirt that was tied around her waist. “We did it.”

 

She held out her hand to him for a high five and he stared at it, raising his eyebrow.

 

“High-five.” she held it out again and he gingerly held his hand out to hers. She smiled at him, feeling truly accomplished for the first time in a long time.

 

“Now comes the hard part.”

 

* * *

 

Bulma knocked and waited, then she waited some more. This _had_ to be the right room. Lato had pointed directly down this hallway and there were no other proper rooms. But if he was inside he wasn't answering.

 

She supposed this was what she got for complaining after all. They had been sitting around for hours ready to depart and search for the purger ship, and every time she had asked what they were waiting for the answer had been the same.

 

When Vegeta was ready they would depart and not a moment sooner. The more she interrupted their fun and games to complain or pester them the less understanding they had been. To them, it was all quite simple. We wait for the captain and trust that he knows what is best.

 

Eventually, Lato had suggested she check on him if nothing more than to get her off their necks for a moment.

 

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. There he was at the head of the rug, just as he had been when she had interrupted their pow-wow or whatever it was. He sat cross-legged, his fingers knit together, face buried in his hands.

 

She walked closer, taking care to thoughtfully walk around the edge of the rug. She paused just short of him, looking him over.

 

“Oh my god…”

 

His head shot up. It was unlike him to be surprised by anything much less the noisy human that clattered about the ship constantly like a scurrying rodent. He looked at her quizzically.

 

“...your _feet_.”

 

 _Here it was. Bothersome girl._  

 

“What about them?” He grumbled as he yanked the socks onto his feet.

 

“They look awful, you shouldn't be walking around. You need to put your feet up.”

 

He raised his eyebrows at her. No one was stupid enough to tell him what he _needed_ to do. The crew gave more than enough unsolicited advice for a lifetime but in the end, they knew their place. They respected him enough to trust him and to let him lead. But the _soesa_ was not that way.

 

“Don't nag me, girl. I can take care of myself.” He scowled as he shoved his foot into his boot.

 

“Oh really?” She burst into a fit of angry laughter. “Is that so? _Can you_? I was unaware you were able to stitch your own guts back together while you were lying on the floor bleeding to death. That is quite impressive. Wish you had told me earlier. Woulda saved me a world of gross.”

 

Before she could blink he was in front of her. A _whoosh_ of cool air fluttering in her face. She nearly fell backward but caught herself. He hooked his finger around a loose lock of her hair, holding it delicately up to the light. He had never been so close to her and her heart fluttered nervously.

 

“Tell me girl…” his sinister eyes met hers. “...do you need your tongue to make a ship fly again?”

 

Bulma was speechless, instinctively snapping her jaw shut in terror. He smirked and with a bandaged hand patted her cheek, walking past her, out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

They had been walking for what felt like hours now and every time Bulma had asked someone if they were sure they were heading in the right direction. They had simply sniffed the wind and responded with a simple “yes”.

 

Bulma fiddled with the scouter on her face, busying her mind with thoughts of deconstructing and reconstructing it as a more efficient tool. She mused over creating a pair of night vision goggles and toggled through the settings as foreign text danced across the lit screen.  
  
Raditz chuckled heartily as Bulma fiddled with the device. “You probably shouldn’t bother, Soesa. Just stick close and we’ll make sure you get where you’re going.”   
  
Bulma was tired of being treated constantly like someone who couldn’t take care of herself.

 

She looked up at Raditz, her eyes roaming over his body, his exposed arms and the large muscles that adorned them.  
  
“Thank you, Raditz. It’s good to know you’ll keep me safe.” She pouted at him, her long eyelashes fluttering over her deep blue eyes. Raditz’s heart caught in his throat as she stared at him coyly. Lifting her finger and beckoning him closer. He swallowed hard and leaned in.

 

She wrapped her hand around his bicep, feeling the cut of his muscles and biting her lip. Before he noticed what had happened she had slipped his leather armband off and winked at him.

 

“Thanks.” she waved as she tied her hair back with his armband and walked away. A gentle sway in her hips.

 

Raditz was shocked and dumbfounded. He quickly glanced around, hoping that nobody noticed what had just happened. _Damn that woman._

  


Eventually, they reached the ship...or what was left of it. It looked worse off than the saiyan’s ship by far but the damage was fresh.

 

“Sure did a number on it, didn’t they?” Nappa grunted as he pried up a large piece of hull plating, freeing a passage to the inside of the destroyed vessel.

 

“They musta crashed too.” Raditz muttered, scratching his nose with his thumb as they approached the ship that had dug into the red earth like a plow.

 

“Now what planted that idea in your head Raditz?” Tschev snapped as she picked up a loose bolt from the dirt and threw it at him.

 

They made their way to the center of the ship, one lonely light flickered rapidly, spilling light and shadows from the deck above. It was eerily silent. The random echoing drips and clinks did nothing to help Bulma’s nervousness as she thought back to Nappa’s words from the campfire the previous night.

 

Someone could still be out here.

 

“Take a good long look,” Vegeta voice broke through the haze of anxiety that Bulma felt creeping up her spine and down into her hands. “This is what you’re lookin’ for, one of each. If you find more, grab more. We sure as hell need it.” He stood above the cloth that held the myriad of broken parts, metal sheets, and tools.

 

“I don’t want any heroes out here tonight. Make it clean and don’t be stupid.” he paused emphasizing the final words with a seriousness. “You find anyone, kill the bastard.”

 

“What if I find a _sa’a**?_ ” Bardock smirked, staring down at Tschev. She growled but before she could snap back at him Vegeta spoke again.

 

“Anything could be crawlin' round this mess. Now we don’t have all night, split up and get to lookin’.”

 

They dispersed quickly, and quietly scurrying like bilge rats into the dark bowels of the ship.

 

“Tisevi, ‘ave le Soesa i le enisini. Fesoasoani iate ‘ia se’i maua mea ‘uma na te mana’omia.***”

 

Tschev stopped dead in her tracks, turning quickly on her heels, and glared at Vegeta. Venom dripped from her tightly closed lips. After a tense moment of silence, he lifted his head and raised his eyebrows at her. She simply nodded and with that he was gone and Bulma was left alone with Tschev.

 

_Great._

 

“So, are you...uh... headin’ the same way?” Bulma tried to be as cordial as possible attempting to strike up an awkward conversation that, in truth, she hoped to avoid. Still anything was better than the strangling silence that hung between her and the saiyan that wanted to strangle her.

 

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

 

Raditz wound his way deeper into the wreckage, trying his best to remember the handful of broken bobbles and tools. The light grew progressively dimmer and more sparse, which would normally not be a problem, but everything was the same temperature as well, insulated as it was against the heat of the planet outside. Thus, in the darkness all the shapes sort of blended together making it hard to see where one thing ended and another began.

 

* * *

 

 

Lato stepped delicately but swiftly through the debris that littered the hallways, not touching a thing as her eyes scanned her surroundings. She seemed to dance as she progressed through bowels of the ship.  
  
She stopped suddenly at a juncture, noticing the debris from an exploded bulkhead. There was a coil of thick wire that looked to have only superficial scorches and would likely serve to help repair an EPS conduit. She bent down to inspect it and pick it up.

 

Just as her fingers gently lifted it from the floor, she nearly lost her balance as the entire ship jerked around her, accompanied by the screech of metal fatigue and the patter of debris raining down, echoing through the deck.

 

Bolting upright, her ears twitched slightly, trying to ascertain what was going on. It was faint, but she heard grunting and yelling, several decks below, and she knew exactly who was in trouble. Quickly glancing around to determine the quickest route to the commotion. Contrary to her general approach to problems, and against her better judgment, she extended a hand towards the floor and began to gather some energy. She would make her own shortcut.

 

* * *

 

 

Bardock rounded the corner at a full sprint. Raditz couldn’t be much farther, but the struggle seemed to have ceased. Knowing his son and his abilities, Bardock wasn’t exactly hopeful. He would never admit it, but he had always sheltered his son more than he ought. He was all he had left after losing his wife to Frieza and Kakarot to some godforsaken world on the other side of the galaxy.  
  
Rounding one more corner, training his pistol on the first shape he saw, he almost didn’t recognize Raditz in time to avoid blasting a hole through his chest. At his sons feet lay a dead purger. His slimy, frog-like skin glistening slightly in the faint light of energy that still glowed in Raditz’s hands.   
  
Relief washed over Bardock like a waterfall.   
  
“Hm. Not bad, kid.” was all he said.

  
Raditz let the energy he had gathered slowly dissipate until they were once again bathed in darkness.   
  
“He tried to take my gun when my back was turned - everything’s so dark and muted it’s impossible to see what’s what in here.” Raditz explained. “Anyway, he got what was coming to him. Filthy low-class scum.” He accented his insult against his dead assailant with a kick to the corpse’s torso. It slid across the floor and crashed against a wall.   
  
“Don’t get cocky, Rad. We never did count them the other night, so there’s no saying if there could be mor-”   
  
He was cut off as an explosion erupted from overhead and someone dropped down into the room, energy buzzing in the air around them. Whoever this was, was no simple low class warrior.   
  
Bardock and Raditz each took a stance, the former once again training his pistol on the newcomer. Raditz took the initiative and charged.   
  
Lato stood upright in plenty of time to see Raditz’s foolhardy attack, turning slightly out of the way, letting him crash past her. Realizing who it was, Bardock once again lowered his pistol.   
  
“You got here fast.” He said to the petite woman, his one good eye narrowed slightly, his mouth formed into a smirk.   
  
“Not as fast as you.” came the reply, with a smirk of its own as Lato straightened herself, dusting the debris from her clothes. Understanding passed between them that needed no words to convey. They both cared for Raditz in their own way.   
  
Turning to the young warrior who was now regaining his feet, groaning, they both laughed slightly.   
  
“Well, can’t win ‘em all, eh Raditz?” Bardock laughed, Lato joining in, playfully. Raditz, by the look on his face, didn’t seem to appreciate the joke.   
  
“Oh, come now. We’re just making the best of this assignment. Nobody likes being cooped up in these damn purger ships. Let’s just try and enjoy ourselves and get out of here.” Lato said.   
  
“It’s not that.” Raditz replied. The two of them sobered as he held up the distress beacon he’d found as a result of his clumsy attack. It was alight and broadcasting a homing signal. “The purger must have stashed it when he heard us board.” He said.   
  
“Welp, that ain’t no good.” Bardock said, taking it from his son before smashing it against a wall.   
  
“I’ll tell the captain.” Lato said, meeting eyes with the other two before dashing off.   
  
“Hope that wasn’t a fluke.” Bardock said to Raditz, gesturing to the dead purger. “Come on, we’d best hurry.”   
  
As they left the room, the faint light that scattered down from above waved back and forth across the rank insignia of the dead purger captain, first class.

 

* * *

 

Bulma sighed in exasperation, Tschev growled, and Bulma awkwardly smiled at her as the small saiyan stomped behind, tossing and kicking things that could easily be stepped around. The closer they got to the engine room the more rubble stood in their path. Something about it made Bulma nervous, anyone could be hiding anywhere and the ship was dark. Tschev had long since taken the lead, with no patience for Bulma’s hesitation and a much better mind for the ships layout. They were familiar after all, Tschev had been born on a purge vessel just like this one. It brought back a slew of nasty memories. She found herself rapidly lost in them, as quickly and easily as turning off a light.

 

“Hey...maybe they're right. We should be careful.” Bulma muttered as she stumbled through the wreckage after Tschev.

 

She flicked her tail angrily as she kicked aside a large metal sheet, causing exposed wires to spark.

 

“Let’s just get this over with.”

 

“W-” Before Bulma could finish they were both startled by a crash and an explosion somewhere a ways off, but still in the ship.

 

“Don’t worry none, probably some lone straggler that Nappa or Bardock lambasted, judgin’ on account of the explosion.” Tschev said.  
  
“...oh. Right. Yeah, who’s worried about being ambushed anyway? Ha. ha.” Bulma tried to force a laugh and sound confident, though she was completely sure that Tschev wasn’t fooled.   
  
“Mmm.” was all the reply she got, before Tschev turned and continued down the hall, just as careless as before.   
  
“Agh! Sunnova-” Tschev yelled. “Damn rubble.” she kicked the hunk of scrap that she had stubbed her toe on, sending it flying ahead of them down the corridor.   
  
Bulma thought of replying, something to the effect of _that’s what you get, moron!_ , but self preservation got the better of her and satisfied herself with fantasies of tearing into Tschev in her mind alone.   
  
“What you gawking at? Hustle up!” Tschev yelled back, continuing her violent protest as she once more walked ahead, nonchalantly driving her fist into a heavy metal beam that hung from the ceiling, blocking their path.

 

The last thing Tschev remembered was Bulma’s blood-curdling screams.

 

* * *

 

 

Vegeta recoiled at the sound of the wailing as it echoed through the ship. Something was wrong, it wasn’t stopping. Before he put any rational thought into it he dropped through the hole in the flooring to the deck below landing on all fours. He stood, training his ears to the sound and broke into a sprint, hopping atop and swinging over the wreckage to the engine room.

 

He hit the floor so lightly that the lose grates made no sound as he flew across them. He crossed his arms across his chest and pulled his pistols from their holsters. A large support beam blocked his path, he ran faster as he approached it and dropped to the floor, sliding beneath it. He rolled, his shoulder hitting the floor and landed in a tight crouch on the balls of his feet, aiming his guns at the open engine room in front of him. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed it and holstered his guns, walking forward with hesitation. Everything moved so slowly.

 

Bulma was on her knees, her hands over her mouth as she choked on her hysteric screams, Raditz had his arm wrapped around her, looking on to where Bardock knelt.

 

His boots slapped the ground with a quiet, wet _tlit_. He looked down. There was blood everywhere. And that's when he saw Tschev. A horrifyingly deep gash ran from her bottom lip to her pelvis splitting her nearly in half. She looked through Bardock with frantic eyes and feverish breaths.

“Hey...Hey. Over here _sa’a_.” Bardock tried to get her attention, keep her focus, but it wasn't working. He held his hand to Tschev’s chest, pulling the split seams of her flesh back together, blood bubbled through his fingers as they clawed into her. Her body shivered and twitched against his palm. “Don’t you go dyin’ on me. How am I supposed to kill you if you’re already dead, huh?” Bardock sounded more desperate than Vegeta had ever heard him sound and it sank to the pit of his stomach.

 

Vegeta approached Bulma, signalling to Raditz to join his father. He nodded solemnly and stood, Bulma clung to his arms, eyes wide and desperate. He smiled at her and rested his hand on her head.

 

“Hey. It’s okay.” Raditz winked and pried her hand from his wrist. But she could hear his anxious voice as he whispered with his father, kneeling on either side of Tschev. Lato stepped up, taking Raditz’s place in steadying Bulma.

 

Vegeta crouched in front of her. She tried to follow his voice as spoke but she just couldn't. She could see his mouth moving but all she could hear is the sickening gurgle that came from Tschev’s open throat.

 

“What happened?” He snapped quickly.

 

“I tried to…I wasn't...I tried...” she broke into sobs again. “I...I...” Bulma wanted to tell him everything but she couldn't look away from the gore in front of her eyes and she couldn't stop weeping.

 

“Soesa.”

 

Suddenly he was crouched in front of her, cupping her face in his bandaged hands. She tried to focus on his face but her eyes were drawn to the pooling blood that inched closer to her.

 

“What. Happened?”

 

She shook from her stupor as Vegeta repeated his question, locking eyes with her.

 

Nappa stood behind Vegeta now, a large capacitor tucked under his arm. Lato had gracefully made her way to Raditz and was kneeling beside him, a sack slung over her shoulder. Everyone was shouting, saying things in Common and Saiyan. Bulma heard them all but understood nothing. Vegeta stood above Tschev and closed his eyes. For a moment all Bulma saw was his face. It was tired and desperate. Just a moment passed and he opened his eyes and his carefully sculpted scowl returned.  

 

Raditz stood in front of Bulma, blocking her view. He tilted his head so their eyes met. He smiled an empty smile at her and in as cheery tone as he could muster he spoke.

 

“Change of plans _Soesa._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma didn’t want to be alone but she didn’t want to be around anyone either. She easily could’ve gone searching for Nappa but he didn’t sound like good company at the moment. No one did, for that matter. So instead she settled for the silence of her room and her own solitary company. She tried to distract herself by fiddling with the scouter but her makeshift tools were all too large or rusted or broken themselves to make any real progress. Eventually she gave up and threw it across the room in frustration. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the metal floor, echoing loudly. From what Raditz said, he and Lato may not be back for the rest of the night. They were tasked with not only retrieving the equipment needed but to scout as well. Nappa had been right about the purgers, and that was more than a little unsettling to everyone.

 

She wrapped Stoks’s shirt tightly around her. It made her feel safe, but it shouldn’t have. It was nothing more than a piece of cloth and she felt foolish that it gave her so much comfort to have it around her. Bulma pulled her knees to her chest, letting the cot sway back and forth. She buried her face in her pillow, breathing in deep and exhaling everything that had happened, as if with just the act of breathing she could make it all go away.

 

But it didn’t, like the blood that never seemed to wash from her hands or the engine grease that she could never get from under her nails. What she had seen, what she had been through, would never simply go away. It would never cease to be. She was in that very moment but she lived in the past. She lived in Goku’s eyes and Stoks’s smile and her mother’s laughter. She wanted to stop, needed to stop but she didn’t know how.

 

Her door swung open and she nearly fell to the floor.

 

Her bare feet slapped the floor as she jumped to her feet, shouting at the intruder. “Don’t you people ever knock?”

 

Vegeta lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow curiously. He stood in the open doorway proud, poised, and silent. Hidden behind the facade she could see the exhaustion in his furrowed eyebrows, in his heavy shoulders, but most of all in his dark eyes. She found herself lost in them and he noticed, quickly breaking eye contact and clearing his throat.

 

“Come.” he said and turned on his heels, disappearing down the hallway.

 

He fully expected her to follow but she stood in her room, arms folded across her chest in protest.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke to her from the hall, never bothering to stop or turn around his tail flicking back and forth as he walked.

 

“I’ve been told you have steady hands.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma’s mind bubbled and stewed on the revelations of the past few days. Her eyes flitted back and forth between her work and Vegeta. Over the hours his face had fallen from his usual scowl to a furrowed brow in an expression that looked more like he was about to cry than yell. Something about it worried her.

 

He reached up and pushed the hair from his face, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm and grumbling to himself when his bangs began to fall back into his eyes. Then he looked up at her. He noticed, she should’ve known he would have. He noticed everything.

 

“Y-you look tired. Maybe you should take a break.” she cautiously spoke.

 

“Stitching a face back together is delicate work, it takes _finesse_.” he scoffed. “Would you rather I send Nappa in to finish the job?” He rolled his stiff shoulders, blinking the dryness from his eyes and sighing, setting about the rest of the stitches under Tschev’s chin. They were silent for a time as they continued to sew the gaping wound closed with great care.

 

“Vegeta…” she waited for a response and when none came she continued, barrelling through the silence. “...is she going to die?”

 

He looked surprised by her question, rolling his shoulders awkwardly and clearing his throat before he looked back down. “Maybe.”

 

She let the silence sit awkwardly between the two of them. It didn’t seem to bother him at all.

 

“How many saiyans have died on this planet?”

 

“Too many.” he pushed the hair from his hand with the heel of his palm, taking care not to rub blood on his forehead.

 

“How long have you been here?”

 

“Too long.”

 

“Do you even know how to give a straight answer? Do you get some sick pleasure from keeping me in the dark?” She looked up from where she was pulling the skin of the sternum back together.

 

“You never asked, Soesa.”

 

“God, you're so stubborn. Maybe if you trusted me and actually told me things we could get off this trash heap faster.” she slammed her hands against the table and he paused to lift his eyebrows at her.

 

“I don’t trust you.” he stated bluntly and calmly.

 

“Well, I don’t trust you either.” she spat back, feeling childish.

 

“Makes no difference to me.”

 

“Well it should. Maybe I could help you do more than escape if you just told me what was going on.” she was screaming now, tears streaming down her face from her tired eyes.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

Bulma knew she needed to answer that carefully. It was a poised invitation to ask anything she wanted and she wasn't sure he would answer another time but she couldn’t seem to calm herself. She was unravelling and she felt it happening quicker than she could weave herself back together again.

 

“Stop that.” He sounded almost uncomfortable as he shifted his shoulders, his eyes trained down at his work.

 

“What?” She sniffled.  

 

“Crying.”

 

“You know what? You don’t have to be such a jerk about everything. We’re not all heartless monsters like you. Some people have feelings. And you know what, maybe people would like you more if you were a little nicer.”

 

“I don’t care if you like me.” he stated matter-of-factly as he cut the new thread with his teeth and rolled a knot in the end between his fingers.

 

“Who knows?” she spat sarcastically. “Maybe if you were nicer I’d be motivated to fix your ship faster.”

 

He stopped what he was doing and looked up at her incredulously. “You’re already fixing it as fast as you can.”

 

“How do _you_ know? You don’t know anything about engines. If you did you would’ve left me to die on that ship and you would’ve just fixed it yourself. How do you know I’m not just stalling you until you all _die_ of starvation and then I’ll fix it and escape.” Bulma mopped the blood off of the table and held the skin taut as Vegeta began to stitch.

 

“That’s a stupid plan. Any saiyan could outlast you.” he said coolly, focused intensely on Tschev’s wound. He pulled the two halves of her bottom lip back together, holding them with one hand as he used his left to thread the needle through the flesh.

 

“Then I'll build a weapon specifically to kill a saiyan in one shot and then I'm going to try it out on you.” she snapped as she passed the thread to him and held Tschev’s head steady.

 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He smirked at her, raising his furrowed eyebrows. He set about re-threading the needle again for the hundredth time.

 

It wasn't lost on Vegeta that despite their petty arguing Bulma never once slowed their work. She was precise and methodical, setting aside her girlish squeals and squirmish fidgeting. He didn't need to tell her how dire it was, she clearly understood. He tried not to smirk.

 

Vegeta wiped his blood-soaked hands on the rags, using the back of his arm to push the bangs from his eyes. He growled in frustration as they fell back into his face, just as they always did.

 

* * *

 

They had been working tirelessly for hours. Vegeta had only just slipped away, satisfied with their work and Tschev’s stability. For the moment everything was quiet and Bulma tried to savor it. Unable to predict what would happen next the best she could do is hope for relative peace for a short time. She looked at her watch, it was morning now and still Bulma ached for a sunrise that would never come. She stood in the doorway to the medical bay, her fingers shook and her hands ached from hours of quick repetitive work. Tschev was alive for now but she looked horrible.

 

Bulma sighed, trying desperately to pull herself together but the exhaustion and stress was weighing on her. She just wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

 

Life out here, on this planet, had become more than just difficult. It was unpredictable and the stakes were impossibly high. Unlike any other adventure in her life, Bulma wasn't so sure things were going to turn out alright. Goku wasn’t here to swoop in and save her just as things fell apart and without him she just wasn’t sure she could pull through.

 

She heard footsteps behind her and Bardock patted her on the shoulder as he passed. Leaning his scarred shoulder heavily on the doorframe he pulled his tin of cigarettes from his pocket, flipping it open and then closed again without taking one. Bulma had never seen him without a cigarette in his mouth before. He looked exhausted.

 

“Bardock,” Bulma swallowed hard, watching from the doorway. She seemed so small, smaller than she had before. Without her hard stare and spiteful eyes she was almost pretty and soft. She looked like a child, with soft round cheeks and gentle curves stained with deep blues, reds, and blacks.“Bardock, do you think she's gonna die?”

 

He chewed on his lip vigorously, his constant fidgeting betrayed his calm facade.

 

“Nah kid, Lord willin’ and the creek don't rise, she'll live.” Bardock turned his face to look at her and ruffled her hair, “...but if I know ‘er...and I do... She's gonna wish she had.” turning back to look at Tschev his expression changed to something _almost_ soft. If Bulma didn't know any better she would have called it a pity.

 

* * *

* * *

Surprise! We published a little early today. We hope you all enjoy it.

 

 

Thanks to everyone who has read and commented on the story. You've all had wonderful things to say and we love reading your thoughts and ideas so much!

 

xoxo,

 

Hanko & Mo

* * *

 

Translations:

 

*Leai - No

**sa'a - a derogatory term for a short person, a dwarf or a midget

***Tisevi, ‘ave le Soesa i le enisini. Fesoasoani iate ‘ia se’i maua mea ‘uma na te mana’omia. - Tschev, take the Soesa to the engine and help her until everything she needs is found.


	10. Hell or High Water

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT: HELL OR HIGH WATER**

* * *

 

_Was it something we did?_

_Or just a cruel twist of fate?_

_Was it hell or high water_

_And is it too late?_

* * *

 

  


Bulma listened to her own quiet sniffles echo in the empty engine room. She crouched in the corner of the dismantled machine, burying her face deep in her knees. The tube had been long since hollowed out. Almost every piece in the section needed replacing, and she wasn’t sure how to tell them after the salvage operation things were essentially not any better than they had been. So much for hope.

 

She hit the inside of the hollow tubing with her fist and something fell from the ventilation shaft above her onto her head. She cursed, rubbing her hand and groping in the darkness for whatever had fallen on her, unceremoniously ruining her pity party. Undoubtedly a broken part she had missed, just one more thing that grounded the ship to it’s dusty grave.

 

Her hand bumped the edge of the thing that had fallen on her head, but it wasn’t a part at all. It was a book. A book bound in a cord. Just like the one Basil had shown her in her dream.

 

“Yoohoo?” A voice called into the dark as a hand banged loudly against the walls. Bulma tucked the book in the cargo pocket of her pants and crawled out of the engine to see Nappa, looking around and scratching his bald head comically.

 

Nappa cranked the light dial and the lights in the engine room sparked to life. Bulma squinted with annoyance at the intruder.

 

“There you are.” he laughed, slapping his own knee. “You wiley, lil’ smutch rat, you. Always sneakin’ away and scurrin’ about. Come on.” he grunted as he lifted her up off the ground like a rag doll and set her upright. “It’s nearly grub time.”

 

Nappa moved through life with an obliviousness and almost innocence that Bulma envied greatly. Most of the time his ignorance was either amusing or mildly annoying but he was tolerable, sometimes even endearing. Right now Bulma just wanted him to leave.

 

“I’m not hungry Nappa.”

 

“Y’know you ain’t much of a saiyan. Saiyans is always hungry.” He chortled.

 

He was right, she _wasn’t_. When she didn’t respond he leaned in closer, fixing her with a gentle, inquisitive look.

 

“Whatcha doin’ down here in the dark now anyways, _soesa_?”

 

“Just thinking.”

 

“Thinkin’ is a dangerous game.” he cautioned, standing upright. He towered over her. Sometimes she forgot how ludicrously huge and strong this ridiculous man was.

 

“Look. I don’t want to go, I can’t face the others right now... I don’t know how to tell everyone.”

 

He looked confused. She could see on his face he was trying desperately to fill in the blanks on whatever dire news he had missed, staring at her blankly.

 

“Tell ‘em what?”

 

“It’s game over Napps.” she sat back down on the edge of the engine block, leaning her head back and blinking away the fresh sting of tears.

 

“Whatcha mean?” he grunted as he sat next to her, resting his hands on his knees.

 

“The parts we salvaged are broken. Just as broken as the ones we have now. They’re not going to work...I got everyone's hopes up for nothing. Scratch that, not nothing. For the _worse!_ Look what happened to Tschev!”

 

Bulma thought back to the sickening moment in the purger ship. It seemed like everytime she closed her eyes she could see the large metal beam crash down in front of her, the jagged, torn metal edge nearly slicing Tschev in half. Maybe if Bulma had been a saiyan, had been faster or seen better in the low light the whole mess could’ve been prevented. But here she was, filthy and sweaty, hiding in the engine while Tschev lay on a table in the medical bay, the split seam sewn together as neatly as Bulma and Vegeta could from her chin down to her lower abdomen.

 

“Now hey there. Don’t you be talkin’ none like that _Soesa._ Weren’t fer you, Tschev woulda been a goner! Two halves of a whole idiot you coulda say.” he snorted, laughing to himself. “Course, pulling her completely outta the way mighta been preferred, but hey. Things are what they are.”   
  
“I just don’t know, Nappa. It feels like no matter what we do or try, we are fighting against the inevitable. We’re going to die on this rock.”   
  
“Well, you know what they say, when the tough get going, it’s cuz times are tough. This ain’t our first setback, and we always make do. After all, hopes all ya got when ya got nothing but hope.”

 

Bulma laughed through the tears as she wiped them away with her sleeve. What Nappa said had been as ridiculous as he was, like most other things he said, but at the same time he was right. She had to keep going. No sense in crying over it now.

 

They would figure it out or die trying.

 

“You know what a saiyan does in times like this?”

 

She shook her head as she bunched the sleeves of her shirt in her hands, running her fingers along the rough seams.

 

“It’s right about time for a _fono_.”

 

“A what?”

 

* * *

 

 

The saiyans lounged around the mess hall waiting to be summoned by their captain. Nearly everyone was there. Only Tschev, Bardock, and Vegeta were missing. Tschev on account of the accident the night before, and Vegeta on account of him never being around. Bardock usually stayed pretty close, brooding in a corner somewhere nearby but he had gone back and forth from the medical bay to outside the ship since they returned, doing very little else. No one bothered him, no one asked him what he was doing or why. Bulma imagined he was probably mulling outside somewhere, brewing in his thoughts, and smoking until his lungs turned to ash. He had been a worrisome wreck since the accident, though he would never admit it to anyone.

 

Nappa had called upon Vegeta to request a _fono_ and when Vegeta was good ‘n ready he would summon the crew. Apparently it was something along the lines of the meeting she had interrupted a couple of weeks earlier. She banked on sticking close to Lato and following her lead. While she had learned a lot about the saiyans, they still had customs and rituals that she was unfamiliar with. Lato had become a liaison to her of sorts. Answering the hundreds of questions she had asked with grace and patience.

 

Nappa and Raditz were busy playing some sort of board game with small colorful beads and a rounded pegboard full of holes. Raditz had just lost for the fifth time in a row. From what Bulma had gathered by passively watching, Nappa was quite the strategist. She was a more than a little surprised. She made a mental note to ask Lato the rules of the game. Deciding she would challenge Nappa once she had learned how to play. Very few could rival a mind like Bulma’s and the look on his face would be priceless when she beat the undefeated champion at his own game.

 

She picked at her nails as she leaned on the table. Something in her was excited to finally be included in the secret meetings the crew regularly held, the other part of her was ridiculously nervous. Her mind mulling over the same question again and again.

 

_When they found out the ship couldn’t be fixed...what would they do to her?_

 

Lato sat at the opposite end as Raditz and Nappa, carefully deconstructing and cleaning her rifle, and putting it back together again meticulously. Unlike the weapons of the other saiyans her knives and guns were always pristine, much like she was. Very well kept. Bulma couldn’t speak much for saiyans as a whole, but as far as the crew was concerned she was the cleanest and most polite of all of them.

 

Bulma fidgeted nervously, pulling the book from her pocket and feeling the the worn edges. No one had seemed to recognize it as Basil’s and if they did they hadn’t said a thing about it. It was all written in the same script the scouter displayed information in. It must have been Saiyan, while Bulma had picked up quite a lot of it, understanding more than she could speak, she still had no idea how to read it. Another mental note, she would ask Lato to teach her to read Saiyan. The cord that bound the book was made of some sort of rough leather, a ring tied to the end.

 

Bulma closed the book and watched Lato for a time, it was almost soothing watching her quick, meticulous work.

 

“Hey…” Bulma started before her confidence piddled out.

 

“Hello.” Lato smiled without looking up as she continued her work.

 

“Hey Lato, can I...talk to you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Alone?”

 

Lato stopped what she was doing and looked up at Bulma, her face fell into a slight pout. She nodded subtly and stood quietly, walking out of the room. Bulma scrambled to follow. Lato led her down the winding hallways to a door that looked just like the rest of them. She opened it and gestured for Bulma to step inside.

 

It was Lato’s room and it was just as Bulma had pictured it. Simple, tidy, and very clean. From the ceiling of the room hung an array different lights. All different shapes, sizes, and colors. It was beautiful.

 

“Please, sit.” Lato gestured to a small ornate rug on the floor, very similar to the one Bulma had seen in Stoks’s room. She would never admit it to anyone but sometimes she would steal inside his quarters when she needed something to bolster her spirits...or a good cry.

 

Lato kicked off her boots and folded her ankles sitting cross-legged on the rug, Bulma followed suit.

 

“Tell me. What is troubling you?” Lato asked, her hands rested on her knees, her tail unwrapping from her waist as she relaxed, and her head tilted to the side in idle curiosity.

 

“Okay, you are going to think I am crazy but I need to tell somebody this.”

 

Lato smirked, a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes. “Alright.”

 

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

 

Lato looked caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

 

“Okay. This is going to sound _absolutely insane_ and I am fully aware of that. But at this point there is just too much going on for me to sort this all out by myself and to be honest I don’t really trust any of the others enough to talk to them. It’s not that I don’t like them...I like them just fine. You’re the most normal one here and-” Bulma felt herself begin to ramble nervously and caught herself.

 

Lato laughed musically. It was calming.

 

“ _Normal_ is a very interesting word, Bulma. I have been called many things in my life. But I don’t think I have ever been called normal before.”

 

“Well you’re normal to me. So I don’t want you to think I’m insane and I realise how this sounds but-”

 

Lato rested her hand on Bulma’s knee, looking at her with a look of genuine concern.

 

“It’s okay.” Lato smiled. Bulma took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and continued.

 

“Okay. A while ago, like a couple of weeks ago...I had this...dream.” Bulma started out confident but as she went she felt more and more foolish. She found herself fidgeting nervously with her nails. “So...in the dream I _think_ I met Basil? I don’t know. I was working on the engine a lot at the time and pulling really long nights so I figured it was just the stress of being kidnapped by aliens and stranded in some dark, hot _hell_ forced to fix their junker ship.”

 

Lato chuckled under her breath as she watched Bulma ramble.

 

“But I don’t know. In the dream she gave me this notebook, right?”

 

Lato nodded thoughtfully.

 

“And...and so I didn’t really think anything of it until...well, until I actually _found the book_.”

She pulled the small leatherbound journal from her pocket and passed it to Lato. Lato unwrapped it reverently and cracked the book open, her brow furrowing as she began to flip through the book, reading rapidly. After a few moments she swallowed hard.  She thumbed the ring at the end and a smile tugged at the edges of her lips. After a moment she spoke.

 

“What else happened?”

 

“She...told me to _‘take care of her’_ and asked me to give the book to Tschev.”

 

“Well…” Lato sighed, “far be it from me to contradict my sister.” she smiled sweetly as she passed the book back to Bulma, setting her hands back on her knees.

 

“What?”

 

“Every saiyan we have lost was essential to this crew and that loss has been felt by everyone they have left behind. So it will always be. Basil was no exception. She was important to everyone, though they may not have spoken about it. Saiyans are loud but we can be a private people. Much of our culture is sacred to us. We have nothing left but who we are. Basil was Tschev’s mate, Stoks’s dear friend, and my little sister. You remind me a lot of her. You two would’ve made great friends.”  

 

“I’m so sorry Lato. I had no idea. You never-”

 

“It’s alright.” She placed a hand on Bulma’s shoulder and smiled at her. “We all grieve in our own ways.” She thought for a moment, then continued. “To answer your question I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts. But if one spoke to me, I would listen.”

 

* * *

 

 

The _fono*_ was interesting. Everyone was stiff at first and nobody spoke. The room was eerily silent. It was so out of character of them, at least to Bulma, that she wondered if anything was wrong. She expected Vegeta to call the meeting to order, but it was Lato who actually spoke first. She said something cryptic and veiled in metaphor, something about singing birds or something, Bulma wasn’t sure. Then she addressed and acknowledged everyone in the room, ending with Bulma.   
  
After Lato finished, Vegeta responded in kind, using the same strange dialect. Not understanding most of the words, or the contextual meaning of the words she did recognize, she started to space out a bit, just listening to the rising and falling intonation, the unusually rhythmic way Vegeta and Lato spoke, and the occasional grunts or ‘mmm’s of the others, acting like a chorus of accents to certain things Vegeta said. She wondered if this oratorical style was an entirely different dialect or just some kind of cultural code.   
  
Vegeta finished his speech before pausing. Then he switched to galactic common.   


“So, Bulma. This meeting is for you. Speak.”

 

She snapped back to the present, suddenly incredibly unsure of how to proceed.   
  
“Oh..yes, uh…” She began. The Saiyans all watched her intently. Vegeta’s head moved slowly forward, his eyes and eyebrows making an expression that clearly meant he was not feeling very patient.   
  
Bulma cleared her throat. Might as well just dive right into it.   
  
“I can’t fix the engine with what you brought back from the other ship. About half of the parts of the engine won’t function at all, and most of the rest is so bad that if any of you were to sneeze in there more parts might break.”

 

“Don’t see why you pitchin’ a fit _Soesa._ ” Raditz snorted. “We got ‘cher parts for ya.”

 

“Yeah, you did, _Vale._ But what did you do to it before bringing it to me, mmm?”   
  
Something told Bulma this was not the place to use personal insults, judging by the way the others responded when the jab slipped out. It was strange and unnerving how different the rules seemed to be in a situation like this compared to virtually every other waking moment with the Saiyans.

 

No use holding back now, Bulma decided. “Well? Any day now Raditz.” she crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her forearms.

 

“I…”

 

“You _what_?” she snapped impatiently.

 

“I...just...y’know, grabbed the parts. I thought this is what you...wanted?” He wasn’t sure what to say but as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth he was sure they were the wrong ones.

 

“No. No Rad, you did not just _grab the parts_ . You _broke the parts_ . You idiots just ripped things out of conduits and walls. This is complicated technology and tossing it around like a tin o’ beans is how you _break things._ ”

 

“All may not be lost.” Lato reasoned.

 

“Yeah, where there’s a way, there’s a will.” Nappa mused loudly.  

 

“Well things are looking pretty dire to me right now.” Bulma interjected.

 

“That’s quite enough.” Vegeta’s rough voice cut through the quibbling.

 

Everyone stopped and turned to face their captain.

 

“Bardock. How far is the nearest PTO base?”

 

Bardock chewed on his unlit cigarette, humming lightly as he thought and scratching his face thoughtfully. “‘Maybe a parsec, maybe more. Hard to say since this planet is driftin’. Last I checked nearest was the fleet boneyard. Might be a good place for bone pickin’.”

 

“ _Soesa,_ does the pod have enough fuel to go that far and back?”

 

“Definitely. We’ll see how long it’ll take to repair, if I _can_ repair it. Though it never should’ve crashed in the first place, I _told you_ it had an automated landing sequence. A _monkey_ could-” she stopped herself as he raised an eyebrow at her. She nervously cleared her throat and continued. “But that’s not my main concern. It isn’t our ticket out of here, it won’t do any good because it won’t carry everyone.”

 

“That’s fine. It doesn’t need to. We can take what we need from the shipyard to repair the ship. Nappa you, Bardock, and Lato will stay here, keep an eye on things. No way to tell if that beacon got to anyone or not. So keep your ears to the ground. Raditz, you’ll join the _Soesa_ ‘n me. That pod ain’t big and we will need all the room we can spare for scrap.”

 

“Excuse me?” Bulma nearly choked on her own tongue. “What do you mean ‘ _the Soesa’_?” she growled, imitating Vegeta’s low, rough voice.

 

Nappa and Raditz both snickered but were quickly silenced by the venomous look their captain shot at them.

 

“I just want to make sure no parts get _broken_ during retrieval.. You will salvage the parts.”

 

His tone said everything his words didn’t.. Bulma sighed dejectedly but before she could voice her complaints he continued.

 

“How long will it take you to repair the pod?”

 

“Give me a week. That should be long enough to see if it’s even reparable, and to fix it if it is.”

 

“You have two days.”

* * *

 

“Who does he think he is anyways?” Bulma snarled as she shimmied out from beneath the control panel of the pod.

 

“The captain.” Lato laughed at Bulma’s incessant griping.

 

She had requested a week to get the pod space worthy, Vegeta told her she had two days, and she had completed it with half a day to spare.

 

“Yeah. You sure showed us _Soesa._ ” Raditz chortled, swinging his legs back and forth as he sat on the side console. “Ain’t no one more stubborn than Vegeta ‘cept you.”

 

“You know what. I don’t want to hear it from you Rad. You have been utterly useless, alright?”

 

He shrugged, tossing the metal orb he was holding in the air. Lato snatched it before he could catch it again, turning it gracefully across to the back of her hand and running it up her arm, across her shoulders and down to her other hand before tossing it back to him.

 

He stared goofily at her, and she snickered as the metal ball hit him in the face.

 

“If you two are done horsin’ around that about does it.” Bulma peeled off her sweaty gloves and tossed them in the chair.

 

“Great!” Raditz jumped off the console, picking up the metal orb from the ground. “Just in time for grub.”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Soesa_ I got some good news for ya. Ya don’t gotta worry none about fixin’ the ship no more.” Nappa chortled.

 

They were outside, gathered around the campfire for the evening meal. This happened more and more often these days since nobody but Stoks knew how to cook anything any other way than to roast it over a fire. Several of the crew had tried. It hadn’t gone well.

 

Bulma took a sip of her water from her tin raising an eyebrow as she kicked dust into the roaring fire. “Oh? And why is that Nappa?”

 

“‘Cause with Raditz huntin’ like this we’ll all be bones an’ skin by the end of the week.”

 

“Oh hush your bellyachin’ you. I don’t see you doin’ no hunting.” Raditz gripped quietly as he flipped his hair back over his shoulder and pulled it up in a messy bun at the top of his head. In the mop of long hair and the occasional dreadlock woven with colorful threads, there was a simple set of rounded clay beads on a string that was woven into his hair behind his ear. Bulma had never seen them, though she couldn’t say she had ever really inspected Raditz’s hair before.

 

“What are these?” she asked, pointing to the string of beads.

 

He reached behind his ear and fingered them gently as if he had forgotten them. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

 

“Oh...my mother gave these to me on a necklace when I left for my first purge….y’know for good luck and whatnot. Each one’s a member of our family. My father, my mother, me, and Kakarot.”

 

Bulma tried to imagine Bardock as a family man and nearly laughed. He never smiled, rarely spoke. The only time he did anything relatively engaging was when he picked fights with Tschev, which happened fairly often.

 

“What was your mother like?” She leaned in, chin resting heavily on her palm, her elbow resting on her knees.

 

Raditz eyed his father cautiously at the question. He hadn’t seemed to notice. He was across the fire, hitting his tin cup against the log he sat on and singing along to Nappa’s horrendous pipe music. A cigarette fixin’ to fall right out his mouth.

 

“Don’t usually talk about her none. Not ‘round dad anyways...he...he don’t like to think about it.”

 

“Oh... I’m sorry.” Bulma seemed genuinely surprised. The saiyans had always been more than open about anything she had asked them. Never before had she seen one of the crew shy away from any subject.

 

“That’s alright Soesa. She died when I was real young, nearly ten years a tickin’...but dad still don’t like to speak none about it on account a him missin’ her something wicked. I don’t know about your people but it’s...it’s not usual for a saiyan to bond and mate for life. We just don’t do it.” he chewed thoughtfully, spitting a mouthful of clean bones in the dirt at his feet. “Ain’t our way. Some say though that us saiyans can imprint, like findin’ a soulmate of sorts. Dad ‘n Ma were like that.” he laughed to himself as he remembered, absentmindedly thumbing the beads in his hair. “He only had eyes for her. Basil n’ Tschev were like that too. Once they met that was it. The rest of the world just…,” he motioned smoothly with his hands, “ceased to be. Ain’t hell or high water come between the two of ‘em but… can’t say I ever met no other saiyans like that.”

 

“I see…”

 

Bardock muttered a tune that soon turned into a song and Nappa whistled noisily through his small round pipe. Vegeta leaned forward, using the stick he had stoked the fire with to bang the beat of the tune into the dirt, humming along quietly. He _almost_ smiled. Lato set down her knife and the root she was skinning. She stood and dusted herself off, smoothing her top as she stepped forward to the center of the camp. Then...she began to dance. Her movements were long and graceful like lapping ocean waves. It was a stark contrast to the saiyans and their abrasive nature. Raditz stared in awe at the dancing saiyan. Bulma couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t blame him, it was amazing.

 

“She’s pretty good. Dontcha think Rad?” Bulma mused knowingly, watching Raditz chew on his bottom lip as he leaned forward, mesmerized by the performance.

 

“She’s more than good...she’s absolutely incredible.” Raditz mumbled wistfully as Lato stepped gracefully around the fire, spinning gentle webs of blue light around her like wisps of smoke, a genuine smile softening her stoic features. When they reached the chorus of the song all of the saiyans began to sing. It was beautiful and powerful, resonating deep in Bulma’s chest. If she and known the words she would’ve sung along. It was the first time she had seen them all so lighthearted.

 

Raditz felt Bulma’s eyes on him and he cleared his throat awkwardly. She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows knowingly. He kicked around the fire for a good lookin’ critter and finally settled for a crispy, barely recognizable lizard on a stick.

 

Lato’s dance finished, her legs gently crossed and her hands forming a delicate diamond, her index fingers touching as she held them up to the dark heavens.

 

The saiyans cheered and stomped. Lato curtsied gently and laughed.

 

“What was that?” Bulma leaned in closer and muttered to Raditz, her hands flicking in the air, trying clumsily to mimic the strange flickering blue light that Lato spun and wove around her when she danced.

 

“What...you mean her ki?”

 

She rolled her eyes, reaching for a root from the coals on the edge of the fire. “I don’t know, the blue light.”

 

“Yeah. That’s ki.” he sounded surprised as he tore into a small critter. “You ain’t never seen ki before?”

 

Had she? She vaguely remembered Goku talking about ki, usually calling it ‘energy’ or something.

 

“Everything alive has ki in it - it’s what makes us...well, alive. Strong folk can learn how to make it in excess, gather it up, and do things with it. Most saiyans can, anyway. Other folk in the galaxy… well. Hit or miss, I’d say. Mostly miss.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘do stuff with it’?” Bulma was somewhat confused.   
  
“Well, you saw me dance, but that’s just the tip o’ the iceberg. We incorporate techniques using ki into our martial arts. It can burn, cut, pierce, push, or explode if you’re strong enough.” Lato interjected.

 

“If you could weaponize that, blow up a ship with your freakin’ hands then why on _Earth_ are you people using guns and knives instead of blasting people out of the sky with your force powers?”

 

The saiyans spoke over each other as they tried to explain the complex nature of energy.

 

“You want to know, mmm?” Vegeta’s voice silenced the crew. He was slowly unwrapping the thick bandages around his hands.

 

With a playful smirk he held his palms out towards Bulma. She cautiously stood and walked forward, looking down at his palm. She couldn’t help but gawk at the sight. The entirety of his hands were covered in knurled, pink burn scars.

 

“Yes, it would be ideal to _blow up a ship with my freakin’ hands.”_ Vegeta laughed.

 

“You see, using ki offensively… it’s not easy or safe. Even most saiyans avoid using it unless there’s no other choice, and only as much as is necessary. Here…” Lato said, holding out her palm to Bulma. In a second, a small orb, like a tiny blue sun coalesced in the air above her hand. “Feel.” Lato said.  
  
“Ahhh!” Bulma shrieked, surprised as she touched it. “It’s _hot!”_ .   
  
“Mmm.” Bardock said. “That it is.”   
  
Bulma was piecing things together…. Bardock’s missing arm, the scars covering so much of his body... _burn_ scars.   
  
“Heh, yeah.” Bardock said, looking away. He clearly saw what Bulma was thinking.   
  
“Why would you dance with something so dangerous?” Bulma asked, shocked at the dangerous potential.   
  
“Well I - “ Lato began.   
  
“Good ole’ Lato,” Nappa interjected. “She ain’t the strongest Saiyan in the crew, musculo-physically speakin’. But she’s got a _gift_ for ki control. It’s a pretty rare trait to have. Vegeta’s probably the only one I seen what can generate and control more intense ki than Lato there.”

 

“You flatter me” Lato said, actually blushing slightly.

 

“I ain’t flattening nobody.” Nappa said. “Yous prolly the only one of the crew, Geeters exceptin’ o course, I wouldn’t much look forward to fightin. I seen you - all  _ sneaky _ like, weaving in ‘n out people, making ‘em all look clumsy. Don't need none of that. I clumsy enough as it is!”   
  
“Well thank you, Nappa.” Lato said graciously, with a slight bow.   
  
“So why aren’t you going with us then?” Bulma asked, curious as to why Raditz of all the crew members had been chosen as the third member of their upcoming raid.   
  
“I imagine it’s because Vegeta’s worried about that homing beacon we found on the purger ship.” Raditz said. “There’s no shame in me admitting I’d rather have Lato help defend our ship rather ‘n me.”   
  
“Yer just hoping to do some bondage while out with Vegeta!” Nappa shouted, slapping Vegeta on the back. Vegeta looked up at him with mild annoyance. He opened his mouth to speak but instead rolled his eyes and took a bite of the hot root in his hand.   
  
“I think you mean,  _ bonding _ .” Bulma said, trying to hold back a laugh.   
  
“I know what I said! And you know what I meant!” Nappa yelled, laughing louder than the rest. 

  
Bulma laughed. The spirit of the campfire was so much lighter than the somber tone of life in the scorching desert night. She was starting to love these Saiyans. They had become a family to her. A loud, obnoxious, uncouth family. They were more proud than anyone she had ever met. Proud of their heritage, their race, their culture… but at the same time they were also humble. Humble enough to endlessly tease one another and themselves and just, laugh.

* * *

 

Bulma was exhausted, too exhausted to sleep. It was becoming more than an inconvenience, it was becoming a problem. She found herself sleepless and restless every time tragedy struck. Wearing holes in the floor in front of the medical bay and the wall in the mess hall. She wished she had been more like the saiyans, so accustomed to tragedy and the gruesomeness of their lives that they slept easy. She was beginning to grow quite fond of them. Vegeta, on the other hand, she could do without. He was rarely around and when he was she wished he wasn't.

 

But when she mopped the blood from the floors, or pulled the carefully cobbled engine apart she thought of the saiyans that had been lost, their only legacy the junk ship they had left behind. Even worse she began to imagine losing one of the remaining crew members.

 

When anything happened to disrupt the delicate balance of the life she was building, the survival she was desperately clawing at, she found herself pacing through the ship, climbing and crawling through tunnels, around and around again in circles, chewing at her raw nail beds until they bled.

 

She could never relax, never let her guard down. Tschev’s injury had been more than sobering. A simple accident borne from childish anger and carelessness, a collapsed pillar of a crashed ship nearly ended the life of a crew member. A week had passed and Tschev had still not awoken. As Bulma had pulled together the loose skin and thread the needles through the swollen flesh she couldn’t help but think, it could’ve easily been her. But Bulma was not a saiyan, she was a human. The plain and simple spit of it all was that if it had been Bulma she would have been dead before even making it to the operating table.

 

She had thought more about death in the past month than ever in her life before. She was only eighteen and she had been young and foolish. Bulma had always felt invincible, believing that somehow she would pull through in the end. Life had sobered her up real quick. Now she was fighting for her life, they all were. Eventually they would die, maybe it would be in only a few moments, or maybe many years from now.

 

* * *

 

The boy stood silently, his hand clasped to his chest in salute.

 

“Kneel.”

 

His eyes darted around the room, weighing his options. To stand would be to disobey a direct order. The punishment for insubordination was great... too great. So he knelt, his knee bent to the tyrant who destroyed his world, slaughtered his people, and held him captive as a slave.

 

In the low light his eyes caught a flicker of movement. They weren’t alone. His eyes darted between his master and the intruder behind him. A young woman, with vibrant blue hair and piercing eyes. Tears cut hard lines down her soft, rosy cheeks. She was filthy and covered in bruises, her ragged clothes torn. She stared listlessly at him, never blinking, never breathing, never looking away. Something was wrong, it turned his stomach and filled him with panic, she didn’t belong here. Frieza watched gleefully as the boy stared up at him.

 

It was getting dark, too dark to see. For a creature that can see through the darkness it was more than frightening, it was debilitating. He closed his eyes and listened, staving off the onset of paralyzing fear. He listened to the steps of his master circling him like a hungry animal, to the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, and of the girl crying. Then the sounds stopped. A clammy tail wrapped around his throat, before his hands could reach around it, slammed his small body into the ground, his face colliding with the floor.

 

His arms were pulled from where they desperately clawed into the tail that suffocated him, chained to bolts in the floor. Electricity sparked through the wires that wrapped tight around his tiny wrists. He knew the punishment would be less severe if he didn’t fight back.But his heritage, his pride, the blood of his people cried out from dark skies for him to resist.

 

No matter how hard he struggled he couldn’t break the chains. The pain was blinding, sharp white sparked through the suffocating darkness, but it wasn’t enough to stop his struggling. The boy never gave in, the pain evident on his face and in the stifled groans. It made it all the sweeter for his master. So he fought as he listened to the deafening sound of his flesh split with each whip. He could feel the slick blood bubble up his back and trickle down his sides. His raw spine burned and his body trembled.

 

“As much as it pains me to do this, my child, we will continue this until you relent to me. You simply _must_ give up the illusion of control. Remember, dear boy, a slave has no control.”

 

Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see.

 

The words slithered through the darkness, punctuated by the lashes.

 

“How does it feel...Vegeta...to be completely...and utterly...powerless? Tell me…”

* * *

 

 

Bulma found herself passing in front of the open door to the medical bay, the glow of the bell light spilling into the hallway as it swayed gently back and forth. As she passed she looked in at Tschev, still bundled in blankets, moaning in pain. She didn’t think twice as she passed, catching herself dead in her tracks as she realized someone sitting behind the head of the table. Bulma quietly peered in the room at Bardock. He leaned his tired body into the back of his chair. One leg crossed over the other he pushed off the ground leaning the chair on its back legs and letting it fall forward before pushing it back again and again slowly blowing cigarette smoke into the air. It swirled in the light of the bell lamp creating a warm haze in the room.

 

Bardock hummed, sweet and low as he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb back and forth over Tschev’s sweaty forehead. He opened his tired eyes as he yawned, his large canines slipping from under his lips. His white eye stared through Bulma and for a moment she thought he had seen her. Quietly she slipped past the room, pausing to listen to his voice, a smile tugging gently on the corners of her lips.

 

Bulma had never paid much mind to the little things in life. After all, when your life is one grand adventure after another and who has time to sit around drinking lemonade in lawn chairs and watching the fireflies dance? But now that those moments were gone she ached for them. Ached for the sound of her mother humming while she knit or the smell of her father thoughtfully smoking while he worked. The way that Goku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly when he was nervous or the way that Yamcha blushed when she kissed his cheek.

 

She was beginning to take joy in the little things. The absolutely, insignificant moments she had always taken for granted, passing them by without a second thought. Out here they meant everything. She clasped her mother’s cross, saying a silent prayer to a god she wasn’t sure she believed in. She prayed to anyone who would listen. Prayed for the saiyans, for their mission, for their survival.

  


* * *

 

Vegeta woke as he always did - shivering, silent, and utterly paralyzed. Panic shot through his veins like ice, hyperventilating, eyes screwed shut as he struggled to regain control.

 

_Control. A foreign concept for a slave._

 

Systematically through his entire life, everything he had known and loved had been ripped away and crushed to pieces in front of him. He breathed heavily through his nose, rubbing his raw hands over his face, the springs in his mattress creaking painfully as rolled to the edge of the bed.

 

It was over, no use in dwelling on it now. He would wake and move on as he had done a thousand times over. But the girl. She had penetrated his memories, his nightmares. Watching him squirm in pain, staring down blankly at the humiliation as Frieza ripped his joints from their sockets and lashed his back until the flesh threatened to peel from his bones.

 

He rolled his shoulders, hyper aware of the twisting scars that covered his chest and back. The anger smoldered deep inside his gut and bubbled up to his chest. He threw his fist at the wall, letting it collide as hard as he could, nearly driving a hole through the already reinforced metal sheets and leaving a huge dent in the wall. He felt something break in his hand and threw his fist at the wall again, just in spite.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma nearly jumped out of her own skin, yelping at the sudden sound that shattered the calm silence she had stewed in for hours. Only one person slept down at that end of the hallway.

 

_Vegeta._

 

She marched down the hallways with purpose. At least _she_ wasn’t bothering anyone when she walked through the ship at the wee hours of the night. But Vegeta? He was more than inconsiderate. He was incredibly self-centered and rude.

 

She banged rapidly on the door with her fist.

 

“Hey. Open up.” When no one answered she banged harder, her confidence bolstered by her own racing heart.

 

Who did he think he was anyways? He had scared the living daylights out of her. Besides, people were _trying to sleep_. So upset over her own fright, Bulma hadn’t stopped to think that the people who were actually sleeping didn’t seem to be bothered by whatever ruckus their captain was making on the other end of the hallway.

 

She lifted her hand to knock again and felt a hand grip her wrist tightly. She hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t seen him move, but it was closed behind him and he stood in front of her, holding her hand above her head. He wore nothing except for his cargo pants, which hung loosely about his trim waist. He released her hand and she found herself backing down the hallway. His bare feet padding gracefully across the floor as he walked closer to her. The sound of his tail rapping lightly against the floor in agitation. He looked tired and pale, his deep, ruddy skin nearly sheet white. He was covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his fierce eyes tore through her like bullets. She stopped at the doorway to the mess hall, unable to do anything but stare at him. His eyes narrowed with annoyance as he stepped forward, crossing his arms contemptuously.

 

She recognized the scar that ran the length of his abdomen. But it was nearly hidden amongst a forest of lashes and holes. Every single mark a testament to his survival. It was incredible he was still alive.

 

During her stay with the saiyans she had begun to learn so much about them: their language, their culture, even their personal histories. She had grown to respect each one of them as she learned of their incredible tales of survival and perseverance. All except for Vegeta. She knew nothing about Vegeta. Nothing except that he was distant and cold, he had next to no sense of humor, he was never around and when he was, she wished he wasn’t.

 

“What do you want?” he growled so low she barely understood him.

 

“People are trying to sleep.” she hissed.

 

“Forgive me.” he turned his head to the side and leaned in close, his look calm but venomous. Like a snarling dog without the energy to snap it’s jaws. “Did I wake you from your beauty sleep?”

 

“Well...no, but-”

 

He waited, eyebrows raised incredulously before rolling his tired eyes and scoffing.

 

“ _Tzch_.”

 

He turned away from her, his back bathed in the yellow light of the mess hall that spilled into the hallway. She stared at the milky scars that tore through his body. Something in her wanted to reach out and touch them, to ask him about their stories, but self-preservation silenced her.

 

“Go to bed, _Soesa_. Tomorrow will begin shortly and there is much to be done.”

 

Bulma once again found herself alone in the darkness.

  


* * *

* * *

Translations: 

 

*fono - fono literally means meeting but the connotation of it covers more than just the English word "meeting". Basically like a council.

* * *

* * *

  


AN: We know you guys are pining for action and we really want to give it to you. We promise it is coming very, very soon. We just don’t want to put in action for the sake of action. Trust us. It will be worth the wait.

 

Thanks to everyone who has read and commented on the story so far! We have been thrilled that you’ve enjoyed it and have read every comment even if we have not responded to all of them.

 

  * Mo & Hanko




	11. Bad Moon Rising

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE: BAD MOON RISING**

* * *

_ Hope you got your things together _

_ Hope you are quite prepared to die _

_ Looks like we're in for nasty weather _

_ One eye is taken for an eye _

* * *

  
  
  
  


Bulma sat at the table resting her heavy head in her hands. She had barely slept the night before and what sleep she had gotten was restless and full of anxious dreams. What she wouldn't give for a hot cup of coffee right about now. 

 

Someone slammed a stack of old scratch paper on the table in front of her and she jumped. 

 

She muttered to herself. For a bunch of obnoxious, noisy people they were awfully sneaky when they wanted to be, or really just all the time. She looked up to see Bardock pulling a cigarette from the tin with his teeth and Nappa stood beside him, hands on his hips. 

 

“Here ya are.” Nappa piped proudly. “It's all there. Cap’s gonna be elational.”

 

“Okay. I'll bite. What is it?” Bulma sighed, waving her hand nonchalantly as she cradled her head in the other. It was far too early for anyone to be so enthusiastic but that had never stopped Nappa before. 

 

Bardock did not seem nearly as excited as Nappa but that wasn’t unusual. Bardock was never excited about anything. Lazily he rolled the end of his cigarette between his fingers lighting it with a spark of blue light. “It's ya plans kid.”

 

“Yep. Bardock ‘n me was stategerizin’ deep into the night.” 

 

Bardock fixed her with a serious eye as he swung his legs over the bench and sat down across from her. He rapped the stack of papers with his knuckle. 

 

“You follow this plan kid. Y'hear?” Bardock’s tone said it wasn’t a suggestion. Bulma sensed that he was waiting for her to respond and she nodded. 

 

“Atta girl.” He smirked at her, blowing smoke into the space between them. It was more of a smile than she had ever received from Bardock. “It ain't no easy task a three man raid, but you follow the plan and you'll all get back in one piece.” 

 

“Here.” 

 

Bulma barely caught the rough canvas bag Nappa had thrown to her. It was about the size of a messenger bag and had faded designs stitched along the seams. 

 

“What's this for?” 

 

“Welcome to the crew, kid.” Bardock smirked as he leaned forward and flicked her on her nose, clearly enjoying the surprised look on her face. He blew smoke out the side of his mouth and continued. “It's your first real away mission. We figured you'd need somethin’ to carry your actuals.” 

 

Bulma had not expected this at all. She wasn't sure how to feel. These saiyans were the strangest people she had ever met and at the same time they were a simple people, ruled by a code of honor. They were easy to understand. Completely predictable and at the same time the most obnoxious and unpredictable people. They were her saviors, her captors, and now her crew. 

 

“It’s beautiful.” She held it to her forehead as a sign of thanks. “Fa’afetai lava.*”

 

Bardock nodded slightly. Nappa spoke so quietly and tenderly that Bulma gave pause, staring at him.

 

“It was Essi's. She was quite the drawer, pretty handy with a gut hook too… taught Raditz all he knows... ” Nappa trailed off, sounding almost reminiscent and more thoughtful than Bulma had ever seen him. Clearing his throat he quickly recovered, laughing to himself so loud Bardock leaned away “But she ain't gonna be needin’ it no more.” Nappa laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma stood in her room, taking one last look before she headed out to the pod. The space that had once felt like a prison had become her own little haven amidst the chaos of her life. Just like her room back home it was a complete and utter wreck. Tools and scratch notes on stained papers were strewn about the small living space. She had spent nearly all her waking hours in the engine room and whatever she had left on this floor working on her special project. It was finally finished. She picked it up and slid it into her crude canvas bag. 

 

Now if she could just find her other boot. Some things never changed. As she crouched down, pushing aside the piles of papers she spotted something tucked in the corner under the edge of her cot. She shimmied underneath, tugging at the sleeve of her tank top that threatened to slip off her shoulder. 

 

It was her uniform jacket. 

 

If she had found it a month before or possibly even a week she would’ve buried her face in it’s dusty fabric and cried, mourning for the life she had lost, the life that had been stolen from her. But she as she pulled it from under the cot and dusted the thick fabric she felt nothing but fondness for the memories it held. It was a dead part of her life that felt hundreds of years past. The once shiny collar pips were now tarnished and the outside of the coat was covered in red dust. As she uncrumpled the ball of fabric she felt something heavy in the breast pocket. Her heart skipped a beat. 

 

She pulled it from the coat and inspected it for damage. The only thing she had happened to carry with her the day the ship was attacked. A thick rectangular case a few inches on each side, with eight slots in it. 

 

Her capsules.

 

* * *

 

  
  


Raditz made his way out of the ship and into the black morning. He had searched for his father inside and shook his head at the thought, he should’ve known he would be out here. 

 

Bardock was crouched around the nacelle of the ship, smoking, as always. The glow from the end of his cigarette the only light in the darkness. With a grunt, Bardock cleared his throat and stood, pulling his tin from his pocket and flipping it open with his thumb. He held the tin out to Raditz. 

 

Raditz narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He didn’t smoke and his father knew that. Hesitantly he plucked a cigarette from the tin and with some effort lit it with the tips of his fingers. 

 

“Big night tonight.” Bardock muttered. 

 

“Mmm.” Raditz hummed thoughtfully as he smoked. He hated smoking, didn’t mind the smell of the smoke much, always reminded him of his dad, but the taste was awful. 

 

“Don’t hesitate out there. Your self-doubt is your biggest enemy.” Bardock said. “Keep that in mind and you’ll do just fine.”   
  
Raditz coughed. “Don’t worry, I-”   
  
“I don’t.” Bardock curtly cut in. “I just hope, is all.”   
  
Raditz thought about asking what he hoped for, but he had a feeling he knew already. He hoped that one day his son wouldn’t be a disappointment.

 

* * *

 

 

Thank God Nappa wasn’t coming with them - he alone would have filled most of the pod, which was cozy enough as it was with just the three of them. Bulma sat at the controls, ready for launch, while Vegeta sat in a chair to her side. They were just waiting for Raditz now.   
  
After a few short minutes that felt like eternity, he finally emerged from the ship and walked quickly over to the pod. The others, except for Tschev, waited at the ship, watching.

 

“What took so long?” Vegeta asked impatiently, not even waiting for Raditz to set his things down.   
  
“Nothing. Just had a few words with Bardock ‘sall.” came the response.   
  
“Tzch. Get us in the air, Soesa.”   
  
“Roger that,” Bulma responded peppily. “Please keep your tray tables in the upright and locked positions and remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until I give the all clear….” she started, looking forward to their expressions.   
  
The engines whirred to life with a soft hum as the pod slowly lifted into the air, rotating as it did so and tilting back.   
  
“What is a tray tab-” Raditz started. He was cut off by the sudden acceleration of the pod, launching into space with surprising alacrity. Raditz let out a ‘ _ woah’ _ as he struggled to get his seatbelt fastened, complicated by the fact that they were now turning, having already exited from the atmosphere.   
  
Vegeta didn’t even open his eyes, his arms remaining folded tightly across his chest.   
  
_ Well,  _ Bulma thought,  _ at least I got one of them…. _

* * *

 

 

Nearly two days had come and gone painfully slowly.

 

Bulma sat in the side console chair, spinning in slow circles and flipping her Capsule case open and closed over and over again. If she could have died of boredom her corpse would be rotting on the deck of the pod right now. She never thought she would miss Nappa until she had spent two days alone with Vegeta. Raditz provided at least some reprieve from the awkward silence. But she was more than ready to get this entire mission over with. Anxious to land, she had been ready for hours now. They were nearly there and Raditz sat across from her lacing his boots. Vegeta walked into the room, it was the second time she had seen him in the two day journey and, naturally, he was scowling. He curtly and pulled his bag from beneath the console next to Bulma. He leaned into her as he reached down, completely ignoring her presence. He smelled like a campfire, smelled like home.

 

He stood upright, rolling his shoulders. He crossed his arms and pulled off his ragged shirts exposing his warm skin and the milky scars that shredded it. He could feel her eyes on him as he leaned down and pulled the clean shirt from his bag. It was a deep indigo blue made from tighter, smooth fabric. It was clearly one he had not worn as much because it wasn’t filthy and full of holes.  He furrowed his brow and tugged the shirt down, tucking it into his belt.

 

“What?” He quipped impatiently, wrapping the dirty bandages back around his fists and tying the red cloth around his neck.

 

“What, uh, happened to your back?” she asked casually, trying to hide the nervousness that shook her voice ever so slightly.

 

“Nothing.” 

 

“Looks like a pretty  _ painful  _ nothing to me.” She crossed her arms casually, her voiced laced with confident sass.

 

Wrong move. 

 

She had gotten too close, hitting a nerve, and Vegeta snapped like an angry dog snapping its jaws through the fence.

 

“Why do you need to know everything, mmm? I say it's nothing, it's nothing. Now drop it.” Without looking at her he slammed the bag back down on the floor and kicked it back under the console.

 

His tone threatened her not to pursue it any further and she dropped the subject. 

 

While Vegeta was an extremely private person he was also oddly open. Normally he would answer any genuine question in kind with an honest answer. Flat and emotionless. No information was volunteered unless expressly asked for. But he was in no mood to deal with the prying mind of the  _ soesa _ and her ever-rambling mouth and he had made that very, very clear. 

 

Raditz stared at her with a knowing smirk, turning the corners of his mouth down and raising his eyebrows as he tried not to snicker. Bulma shot him a threatening look. 

 

What the hell did  _ he _ think was so funny? 

* * *

 

They stepped off the pod and into the forest clearing. It smelled strongly of dry pine and burnt tar. The air was cold and the harsh winds blew loudly, but despite the smoky brown horizon it was a literal breath of fresh air. It was more than enough for Bulma. It was closer to nature, closer to her home than she had been in a long time. By the looks of it, it was going to rain. She started to pull on her uniform jacket over Stoks’ shirt that she still wore, not having realized how used to the heat she had become.

 

“Just in time. It’ll be dark soon. Looks like them days aligned just like stars. Now what kinda luck is that, eh Vegeta?” 

 

“With any  _ luck _ ,” Vegeta scoffed at the word as he slung his bag over his shoulder, “we won’t need it.” 

 

“Need what?” Bulma questioned as she helped them grab the canvas bags of supplies. 

 

“Heard tell there’s gonna be a full moon out tonight  _ Soesa. _ ” Raditz winked at her and howled.

 

“So what? You turn into a werewolf?” Bulma scoffed as she tied her hair back. 

 

Vegeta exhaled curtly as he slammed the hatch to the pod closed. “That's enough. We have work to do.” Before they could respond he bolted off into the thicket, his feet barely making a sound.

 

* * *

 

 

Tschev stood in front of the grimy mirror and stared at herself. Her head throbbed and her throat was unbearably sore. She didn’t remember much, but she remembered enough. She had spent the past half hour pulling out all of the stitches one stitch at a time. 153 stitches. There were only two people, besides herself, with hands steady enough. 

 

Vegeta...and the  _ Soesa _ . 

 

She took a step back, shoving her fists into the pockets of her shorts. It was worse than she had imagined. Bruises stained the skin down her round cheeks and the entire front of her body. She ran her trembling hands from her stomach up her torso and throat to her lower lip. Letting it linger where the bright-red scar tissue pulled the center of her lip downward. The gnarled and knotted scar was over an inch thick in some places. She hated it, hated everything about it. What she hated even more was that she cried. She didn’t know why she was crying as she stood naked in front of the mirror. Her tail hung low, curling around her ankle. She smashed her fist into the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of tiny shards. They echoed as they bounced off the floor and slid through the grates to the floors below. 

There was no honor in it, no pride in it’s story, no purpose. Getting sliced in half by a scrap of metal and a fistful of your own nonsense was more than shameful, it was downright disgraceful. It would’ve been better for her to have died than to live with the humiliation of her own stupidity. It was no glorious battle scar, but rather an ugly reminder of how foolish and weak she was.

 

Tschev sunk deep into her own mind. She thought of Basil...of her sweet scent and her sideways smile. She could almost see her now, pacing about nervously as she spoke excitedly about some mechanical nonsense. Or sitting at the fire, leg bouncing incessantly, Tschev curled in her arms. She missed the little things that used to drive her insane. Like the way Basil chewed obsessively on her goggles, and fiddled with her ring, turning it around and around again with her thumb as she spoke. 

 

Tschev would fell worlds just to fall into her arms one last time. 

 

The thoughts of Basil evaporated with the stench of grimy smoke that wafted in front of her face.

 

“Sucks, don't it?” a hoarse voice muttered from the door.

 

She spun around, widening her stance, making no move to cover her exposed chest. With a deep scowl she used her forearm to wipe the tears from her face, sniffling loudly.

 

Bardock was leaning casually in the doorway smirking at her. What the hell did  _ he _ think was so funny? With a twitch of his nose and lips he shifted his cigarette from one end of his mouth to the other. Tschev was never in the mood to deal with Bardock, but especially not now. 

 

“Piss off  _ sau’ai _ .” She could hear the break in her own voice.

 

He looked at her with an idle curiosity in his eye as he approached. 

 

“She saved your life, y’know.” he stated dryly. 

 

“What?” She spat. 

 

“The kid nearly died doing it too. Pulled yer sorry ass outta the way.” he sighed, crossing his ankles casually and looping his thumb through the leather of his holster to rest atop his pistol at his waist. “She coulda left you there...you woulda left her.” he shrugged.

 

Her already fragile facade felt itself crack under the pressure. 

 

_ What?  _

 

“Don’t change a damned thing. I'm still gonna kill her.” she growled, scrambling to regain what little composure she had left.

 

“Do what you will.” he shrugged. “Both the Lord an’ the Devil know ain't nobody changin’ your mind but let her fix the damned ship first. The kid never did nothin’ to you. It ain’t her fault that Basil died and she lived and you know that. So quit your whinin’. You ain’t the first to lose a lover and you ain’t gonna be the last.” 

 

She wanted him to leave,  _ needed  _ him to leave. And yet there he was casually making his way closer and closer to her, his eye fixing her with a hard stare. She wrapped her arms around herself and shifted uncomfortably, glaring up at him in defiance. He had seen that face before a hundred times over. 

 

She was fixing to fight. 

 

“What do you want from me Bardock?” 

 

Again he shrugged casually, taking a long drag off his cigarette and blowing the smoke slowly through gritted teeth. “Wanted to check on ya.”

 

“ _ Tzch _ . What do you care?” 

 

He lifted his arm from where it casually hung on the loop of his bandolier and reached for her. She wanted to pull away but she didn’t.

 

He ran his hand down the length of her scar, his fingers lingering along her bottom lip softly and trailing down to the seam of her shorts where the scar disappeared beneath. She reached to slap his hand away but he plucked her hand from the air with ease. His eye danced curiously as he took her in. It was a look she didn’t recognize.

 

Cupping her tiny hand in his, Bardock lifted it to the knotted burn scars that covered his face, and down the entire left side of his body. He stepped even closer and held it there for a moment. Then he moved his hand away.

 

This...was not at all what she had expected.

 

His skin was almost uncomfortably warm. Her fingers traced down his face to his throat, feeling the tug and pull of the marred skin and torn flesh. She had never really thought about it. She had fought beside him and with him countless times but she had never been so close to Bardock before. 

 

Her fingers ghosted across his skin leaving a trail of warmth behind them. It sent chills down his spine and he suppressed a shudder. He honestly couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him. Her hand laid to rest where his arm used to be. Her fingers sprawled out, gripping his shoulder. For a moment it was silent. She looked up at him and he looked at her. It was more still than it had ever been between the two of them. 

 

And then that stillness and calm shattered. 

 

“It hurts.” She choked. He felt her head fall to his chest. Weaving his fingers through her hair and cradling her head, he pulled her in closer. In all the time they had known each other he had never seen her like this. So open and so vulnerable. He could crush her under his heel with nothing but a word or a sideways glance. And he would...but he didn’t. Instead he found himself pulling her closer, wrapping his arm around her as her chest heaved.

 

She clung to him as she fell to pieces, burying her face in his scarred chest. Her tail wandered, wrapping around his and holding it tight, feeling the broken hitches in his limp tail. 

 

“Mmm. I know. Sometimes… sometimes it always will.” He rested his chin on her head, feeling her hot breath on his bare chest as the tears melted into his skin. 

 

* * *

 

The three crouched low behind a ridge on the rear side of the base, near a control tower. Above them, an array of red and yellow lights flickered all across the sky - a series of ships in dry-dock either for repair, refit, or under construction.

 

“Alright,” Bulma began. “According to this-”   
  
“Shh,” Vegeta quipped, eyeing the stack of papers she was removing from her bag. “It’s simple. Just wait here until you see a flare in the sky, then head inside and collect what you need. Raditz will look out for you.” His last words were accented by his fierce glare that bored into Raditz. He understood exactly what Vegeta was saying.   
  
“And just what do you think you’ll be doing?” Bulma asked, incredulous and annoyed that the detailed plan Bardock and Nappa had worked out was being summarily dismissed.

 

“I’ll keep them busy and their attention focused up front. When you see the signal, it will be safe for you to move inside. Try not to be so obvious and don’t dawdle, ammunition runs out, after all.”

 

They nodded their understanding.    
  
“Now wait here and don’t do anything stupid.” Vegeta finished, as he disappeared silently into the forest. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Finally!” Raditz nearly shouted dropping the twig he had been pulling the dry leaves off of. Bulma jumped at his sudden outburst. He had been getting antsy. By his accountin’ nearly two hours had passed before anything happened and it was driving him insane. 

 

The flare lit the sky with a quick flash of red and then the gunshots started, followed by a series of explosions. Vegeta must have taken his time planting all sorts of incendiary devices before he began his assault. He had done a good job too - it seemed near to impossible that one person could cause all that ruckus.

 

* * *

  
  
Vegeta focused on keeping his breathing under control - he needed to pace himself to give them as much time as they needed, but the pressure was mounting.

 

Already over a dozen dead from one thing or another, but for every one that fell, it seemed two more poured from the base. They arranged themselves in a predictable way, which made Vegeta’s job easier, but their sheer number was growing daunting.   
  
He jumped from the tree he had perched in, grabbing the trunk of another and sliding down. As quickly as he could he dashed up and behind a little blind he had rigged together. Just in time too - his tree hide exploded behind him. Three soldiers came jogging up to inspect their work, walking right past what looked like a bush.   
  
The last soldier stopped mid-step, the  _ thok _ of a knife embedding itself in the back of his neck seemed to echo in the silence as he fell face-first to the ground. The other two turned just in time to see Vegeta standing from a roll, his two pistols barrels trained right between their eyes.

 

“Evenin’ gentlemen.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“What are we looking for, again?” Bulma asked, as she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. She was quickly growing antsier than Raditz.   
  
“That!” Raditz shouted, pointing. “Here we go!”   
  
He took off towards the back entrance of the base, crouched low and just as quiet as Vegeta had been.

 

Bulma started to follow, but she’d already lost sight of him. She stumbled down the hillside as quietly as possible, dry leaves and branches tugging at her legs.  _ Damn, _ she thought.  _ Freakin’ sneaky saiyans… _

 

* * *

 

One guard remained at the back entrance, the others all being rallied to the hell that Vegeta was causing up front. His ears pricked up and he shifted his rifle as he heard the eerie sound of metal sliding against metal behind him. He turned and jolted stiffly, a large hand covering his mouth and preventing him from screaming.   
  
“Sorry par’ner,” Raditz said, standing to his full height at least a head taller than the poor guard. “You won’t be having any fun today.”   
  
A quiet squeal escaped the guard’s throat. Raditz lifted the man by the hook that had pierced upward from underneath his ribs before slamming his against the ground, headfirst.   
  
Bulma walked up, panting, just in time to hear the sickening crunch of the guard’s skull smashing like an egg against the concrete.    
  
“What th-aauuugh” Bulma choked back vomit. “What is  _ wrong _ with you people!?”   
  
“Whaaat?” Raditz asked, his arms wide in confusion, blood still dripping from his bale hook.   
  
“I’ve seen enough movies to know you could have just snapped the poor guy’s neck, or just bopped him on the head, or  _ something _ !”   
  
“Tsk. Not as fun.” Raditz replied, bending down and rummaging through the corpses clothes. “Here we go!”   
  
He snapped the key-card from the cord that held it to the guard’s belt and held it against the scanner at the door. It beeped.   
  


“Retina scan, initiated.” sounded a robotic female voice as a panel slid open revealing a green light.   
  
“Uhh…” Raditz started.   
  
“Come on, we need this guy’s face!” Bulma snapped, turning the corpse over. Her heart sunk into her stomach as she realized the poor man’s whole skull was crushed. She wasn’t feeling like sorting through it to see if, by chance, an eye had survived.   
  
“Well, what now?!” Bulma asked furiously. “I hope your  _ fun _ was worth it!”

 

“Please verify security clearance with retina scan…” The robotic voice prompted again.   
  
“Oh shut UP!” Raditz yelled as he crashed his fist into the panel.   
  
“Retina scan: V...vvv...verified.” The voice sank and faded out as it spoke.   
  
The doors slid open.    
  
“After you.” Raditz gestured inside, before thinking better of it. “Actually, no. I’ll go first. Hang tight.”

 

* * *

 

 

Vegeta watched the soldiers pour out of the complex and through the courtyard like a swarm of angry bees. The base was more well-staffed than their antiquated reports had lead them to believe. If he was careful, and he nearly always was, he could handle them all no problem. 

 

It had been too long since Vegeta had had this much fun.

 

Silently he dropped from the branch landing on the back of a soldier. Before the alien could register what was happening Vegeta wrapped his hands around his jaw and the back of his head. With a quick twerk of his arms he twisted the man's neck completely backwards. He sprung off the alien’s back landing in a tight crouch before the body hit the ground. His tail wisped back and forth like an amused cat. 

 

“Stop right there.” a voice shouted. 

 

A guard stood shakily at the head of a battalion of soldiers a few hundred yards away, his arm cannon trained at Vegeta’s back. 

 

“Turn around slowly.” he screamed, nearing hysterics. The man’s eyes flitted over Vegeta as he sized him up, focusing in on the tail that whipped at the ground in amusement.

 

Vegeta laughed, slowly turning to face the soldier. He was easily twice Vegeta’s size. 

 

“Dro-” Before he could finish Vegeta sprinted towards him, the guard struggling to aim the large cannon launcher at his moving target, firing repeatedly but unable to hit his nimble assailant. Vegeta sprung up, just before colliding with the end of the canon. His hands gripping the guard’s shoulders as he flipped over his back. A cacophony of gunshots pierced the air  before Vegeta landed. His spun his pistols gracefully around before gripping them tight. The first couple rows of his assailants dropped to the ground, including the guard in front who Vegeta had used as a springboard.

 

Vegeta pushed his bangs from his eyes with the inside of his shoulder and grinned at the remaining stunned soldiers in front of him.

 

“Let’s dance, ladies.”    
  
Two more guards closed in in front of him, firing repeatedly. Vegeta dove behind a tree, taking a deep breath.   
  
_ Click. _

 

Two more soldiers had managed to flank their way behind him and were leveling their arm cannons at him. “Drop your weapons and surrender!”   
  
“Hmph. You must not know who I am.” Vegeta replied. He could hear the first two jogging up, tightening their pinsir attack. Vegeta smiled slightly, noticing the position of the two flanking soldiers.   
  
“I won’t ask again. Drop your weapons and lay face down on the ground!”   
  
“Oh very well,” Vegeta said, as he slowly bent forward. He clicked a button on his scouter as he did so. An explosion erupted from the base of a tree just to the side of the two soldiers barking commands. One died instantly. The second began to scream in agony as his body became wreathed in flames. One shot from Vegeta’s pistol ended his suffering.   
  
The other two rounded the tree Vegeta had used for cover just as their comrades died. They turned their guns on him, but far too slowly. Vegeta grabbed one by the barrel and bashed the butt of the rifle against its owner’s face, breaking his nose, before taking it. He spun around behind the man and blew a large hole in the chest of the other assailant, before kicking the first man’s legs out from under him. He was dead before he hit the ground, a smoking void where his skull used to be.

 

* * *

 

 

Raditz and Bulma made their way quickly to the main warehouse of the base where ship parts were stacked and stored in great excess, with hardly any trouble. The only resistance they met seemed to be unarmed mechanics and engineers which posed no threat to Raditz.    
  
Once in the storage bay, Bulma had to repeatedly remind herself she wasn’t here to window shop or examine new things she hadn’t seen before. She quickly got the hang of how things were organized. She barked orders at Raditz to get some things from another aisle while she busied herself collecting a few self-sealing stem bolts.   
  
Raditz returned quickly, half a dozen parts held in him arms. “Quick!” He shouted, “Open your bag already!”   
  
“Hmph. My  _ bag?” _ Bulma smiled, reaching into her jacket and removing a capsule. “Just lay those parts on the ground there.” She said, pointing to a small pile she had assembled.   
  
Raditz was clearly confused, but obeyed.   
  
With a click, close to a hundred pounds of alien technology was safely stored away in a small container no larger than a .410 shotgun shell.   
  
Bulma picked it up, tossing it in the air before catching it. “Much easier, dontcha think?”   
  
Her companion clearly didn’t understand what just happened. His expression looked like she had just performed witchcraft.   
  
“Don’t worry, they’re all here. Let’s keep moving.”   
  
Raditz nodded. All told, it took less than ten minutes to get all the parts Bulma needed, and then some.  _ Just in case,  _ she thought.

 

* * *

 

They were on their way out when suddenly Bulma stopped. “Hang on.” She muttered as Raditz, who was barreling ahead of her.   
  
“What is it now?” Raditz shot back impatiently.   
  
“I think this is the kitchen…” Bulma said, her voice trailing off as her head turned the corner to inspect the bright room.   
  
“Look,  _ Soesa _ , I know you’re starting to pick up on the Saiyan way and all, but now is not the time for a meal.”   
  
The look she shot him left him worried that fire was about to shoot from her eyes. Full o’ piss and vinegar that one was. 

 

“Well thank you for that explanation. Just wait here a minute. We’re going to eat well tonight!” She dashed into the kitchen with another capsule in her hand.   
  
“What is taking so long?” Raditz hissed impatiently.   
  
“Almost done!” came the reply.   
  
Raditz was getting antsy. They had already taken too long and didn’t have time to spare. The occasional announcement came over the PA, no doubt also patched through to all the soldier’s scouters outside. The commander’s voice echoed through the halls, orders and strategies plain for Raditz to hear. They were mobilizing some of the ships in the dock for air support. Even Vegeta wouldn’t be able to handle that all by his lonesome.

 

“All non-essential crew to your quarters, remaining reserve soldiers to the north courtyard!” came the commander’s voice.   
  
If Raditz was right, that meant they now had free-reign inside the base. He could get the jump on them in the command center, jam all the ship communications, and buy them some more time, but it’d be risky.   
  
He thought back to his father’s words.  _ Don’t hesitate _ .  _ Don’t doubt yourself _ .   
  
“Hey,  _ Soesa! _ I’ll be right back, wait here when you’re done.”   
  
“What?” Bulma called out from the kitchen.

 

Raditz was already gone.

 

Bulma walked out of the kitchen. There was enough there to fill  _ two _ capsules. She chuckled to herself, congratulating her own cleverness. The saiyans would  _ love  _ her for this.   
  
“Alright Rad, let’s…” She started before finding herself alone. “Raditz?”

 

* * *

 

 

Raditz waited at the door to the command center and listened carefully, counting the different voices. There were two, no three controllers coordinating the launch of several ships.   
  
“Alright, keep things together until I get back” came a low and powerful voice, the commander. “You’re in charge, Ensign.”   
  
“Aye, sir.”

 

Raditz could only smile. The commander was going to join his troops in engaging Vegeta.

 

_ Perfect. _ This was going to be easier than he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Vegeta drummed his fingers anxiously against the door of the pod. Every second longer they stayed was an increased chance they would be discovered. Vegeta wasn’t afraid of a fight, in fact he itched for it...craved it. But he simply couldn't afford to lose any more men, especially his mechanic. 

 

He looked back at the base and considered going after them. It wouldn’t be hard to track them down. Neither of them were particularly stealthy...and that was what worried him. They should’ve been back by now. Something was very wrong. His ears pricked to the sound of footfall as someone sprinted through the brush. He would recognize that smell anywhere.

 

_ Raditz _ .

  
“Hey cap’n. You won’t believe what I-”   
  


“Where the hell is the _ Soesa?” _ Vegeta all but yelled catching Raditz off-guard.   
  
“Oh.” Raditz’s voice suddenly drained of confidence. “Well. They were trying to mobilize air support so I went and shut down the command center. I got this.” he held up a small storage drive. “Don’t know what’s on it but it could be useful. Anywho, she was gone when I got back to where I left her, so I figured she probably headed back here…”   
  
“You  _ idiot!  _ She’s not a soldier, she’s not a saiyan, she doesn’t even know how to hold a goddamned gun. Couldn’t you just stick to the plan?”   
  
“Sh-she’s not here?”   
  
“No she’s not here,  _ ufa* _ !” Vegeta sighed, his face falling into his palm. “Alright, just...Stay. Here.”   
  
“But-”   
  
“Kapugi. Gofo. Ua e iloa?*”   
  
“Ioe.*”   


* * *

 

Bulma smashed her back into the crawl space under the console, biting down on her knuckle, willing her lungs to slow their rapid, desperate fluttering. She thought her heart was going to burst through her ribcage as it hammered in time with the pounding of footsteps that grew closer and closer to the doorway. 

 

Things were not going according to the plan. 

 

Not in the slightest. 

 

* * *

 

Getting back to the base was more difficult this time. Vegeta had left the soldiers to start combing the forest after him. He’d set up enough charges on timers to keep them off-balance for awhile, but he needed to get back through all of that without getting caught.   
  
He was almost there when he heard the commander’s voice booming over the loudspeaker.   
  
“Alright, Vegeta.” the man’s voice was positively brimming with excitement. “I know you’re out there and I’ve got something for you.”   
  
“Ai kae.*” Vegeta mumbled under his breath, dropping to the ground and crawling forward over the ridge to get a look at the situation.   
  
The courtyard was littered with bodies. Standing amidst them were five heavily armed guards. Presumably the other’s were all out in the forest looking for him still. The commander was in the center, flanked by the other four. His hand was on the  _ Soesa’s _ throat, holding her pinned to him, acting like a human shield.   
  


_ Tsk. What a coward. _

 

Vegeta checked his pistols. He was completely out of ammunition. He holstered them angrily.   
  
“You have five minutes to show yourself, unarmed. If you surrender, I might let this little one go.” The commander’s voice taunted.   
  
Vegeta’s mind raced through the possibilities. This had to be perfect or all was lost. He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, focusing. He felt the familiar tingling of energy flowing through his body out to the tips of his fingers. His fingers pointed in towards his palms, focusing the energy into the familiar little spheres. He was ready.   
  
His eyes opened and he took one last breath before hurling himself over the ridge.   
  
The soldiers barely had time to react. With a series of sickening crunches, three soldiers fell, the stench of burned flesh wafting outwards from their corpses, red holes the size of dinner plates through each of their chests.   
  
The fourth managed to avoid Vegeta’s attack. He brought his rifle up and opened fire, the rapid onslaught of bullets pittering harmlessly into the dirt as Vegeta rolled to one side. Vegeta turned his hand, two fingers extended together twisting in a small circle and the yellow ball of light that had at first missed its target ripped through the back of the unsuspecting soldier’s head like a meteor.   
  
“Bad move, Vegeta.” the commander’s voice boomed as he tightened his hold on Bulma. She weeped quietly as she struggled against his iron grip. Her eyes met Vegeta’s, silently pleading for help. He could see it on her face, she had never danced so close to Death before. She was utterly terrified.

  
“Now Cui, do you really think I’d be that stupid?” He swallowed his own fear and broke eye contact with Bulma, nonchalantly pointing a finger into the air above the commander. Cui looked up to see the fifth orb of energy hovering about thirty feet above Cui’s head.   
  
“Hmmm… not bad.” Cui responded. “But I think you don’t understand your situation here. We know you’re looking for parts. We know you cleaned up that purge team that crashed on the rogue planet, and so we know exactly where you’re hiding. And we know…” He accented this by shaking Bulma rather violently. “That this precious little thing is the only one who can fix up that sorry excuse for a ship. Without her, you’re sitting ducks. If you think you can shit halfway ‘cross the galaxy and Frieza don’t know about it you are dumber than I thought! So kill me if you want, it won’t save your crew. And she’ll be dead before I am.”   
  
Vegeta tensed. He was sure things could get worse, but at the moment he wasn’t sure how. There was only one way out of this, he just hoped Cui was as stupid as he always thought him to be. Thunder rumbled quietly in the distance and rain began to pitter down from the skies.   
  
“Alright Cui. Tell you what. I heard tell Frieza’s been sending you to East Eden and back looking for  _ me _ . I’m no fool, I know I’m the only one Frieza wants. Imagine the promotion you’d get if you were the one to hand me into him -  _ alive. _ ”   
  
“I’m listening…”   
  
“All you’ve got to do is let the girl go, and I’ll turn myself in. I’ll…” he hesitated. “I’ll even let you put me in stasis so as to guarantee I won’t cause you any trouble.”   
  
Soldiers were returning from their search and slowly surrounding the courtyard.   
  
“Hmmm… you mean I have to let this blue-haired bitch go? Just how many cards do you think you have to play here, Vegeta?” Cui laughed darkly as he pressed his gun to the side of Bulma’s head.   
  
“More than you think.” Vegeta said with a smirk. “Do you really think I only set explosives as distractions to keep you off my tail? One press of a button and your whole compound goes up in flames. I’m not sure how Frieza would feel about his primary shipyard being reduced to rubble.”   
  
Cui eyed Vegeta as he contemplated.  _ Come on, moron.  _ Vegeta thought, hoping Cui wouldn’t call his bluff.   
  
“Well sounds like you got yerself a deal!” Cui motioned for several of his soldiers to apprehend Vegeta. They warily approached as Vegeta stood up and let the energy he’d been maintaining dissipate. He opened and closed his hands, shaking his grip on the energy.    
  
“Shall we, gentlemen?” Vegeta asked contemptuously when the soldiers hesitated to walk him forward. Bulma stared at him, eyes wide with panic. Vegeta avoided her gaze as the soldiers, his fingers knit together on the back of his head. Vegeta’s eyes didn’t waver in the slightest. He hoped Cui could feel his rage boring into him.   
  
“On second thought…” Cui began once Vegeta had closed most of the distance between them. “I think I’ll just kill you now….”   
  
Vegeta’s eyes widened as Cui raised a sawed-off shotgun from behind Bulma. Vegeta attempted to jerk out of the way, but the soldiers held him fast.   
  
_ Bang. _ _  
_ _  
_ One of the soldiers dropped to the ground, screaming in pain and holding his arm. Another had dove out of the way at the last second. 

 

* * *

 

 

Every sensation Bulma felt was detached from everything else. So many things happening at once but existing independently. She had never felt something so foreign before. The barrage of cold rain that pelted down on her, streaks of lightning danced in the sky, the echo of the rolling thunder that hummed in her chest, the spray of hot blood misted her face as the gunshot echoed in her ears. The ringing was impossibly loud, drowning out everything but the pounding of her heart that throbbed in her skull. Slowly it faded away and Bulma heard the sound of her own screams. They felt so far away. The haunting look on Vegeta’s face as he locked eyes with her. 

 

Vegeta stumbled backwards, barely catching himself. Eyes wide, eyebrows knit in pain as adrenaline pumped through his blood. His face frozen in complete and utter shock. A trembling hand made its way to his chest. He couldn't move his right arm, it swung gently as he struggled to keep his balance. His tongue made a rapid clicking sound against the back of his mouth as his throat convulsed, begging for air. 

 

She looked beside her, her crushed throat twisting against the arm that held her to the commander’s chest. His other arm hung by his side, still holding the smoking shotgun, his front splattered with blood. Cui laughed hysterically as he drank in the sight.

 

“I hate for it to end this way Vegeta. Y’know, I woulda loved to turn you over to Lord Frieza but I just can’t risk you getting away again. Gotta hand it to you though, you’ve always been one slippery bastard. I’ll kill you quick like...it’s more mercy than you deserve.” 

 

Vegeta’s knees buckled as he lurched forward, trying to catch himself before he collapsed. His hand clutched his chest as he struggled to keep himself from toppling, face down in the mud. 

 

The cold, heavy rain battered his skin and soaked through his clothes. Everything seemed to move impossibly slow, as the clouds began to part just enough for the soft glow of the moon to pepper him in light as it peeked behind the thick, black storm clouds. He could  _ feel _ the moon coursing through his veins to the thick ebb and flow of his heart as it pumped hot blood from his body and into the dark mud beneath him.

 

“You,” Cui barked at the remaining soldiers. “Finish him.”   
  
His voice snapped Bulma back to the present. It wasn’t going to end like this.   
  
Bulma’s face twisted into a visage of rage and defiance. She slammed her right elbow right into Cui’s groin and drove the heel of her boot into his foot. WAsting no time she reached into her jacket to pull out the weapon. She had been so stupid, chiding herself for letting her fear get the better of her. She hadn’t used it when she should have and now everything was falling apart. It was a small, unassuming piece of equipment that fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. It was only a few inches long and about two inches wide, a small button on the back and an emitter at the front, with a slight forward curve.   
  
She turned as Cui lost his grip on her, coughing in surprise as he bent forward. She put the small weapon’s tip against his throat and pressed the button.

 

_ Tseeew. _ _  
_ _  
_ An orange blast of charged particles ripped through his neck, blood spilling all over her as his head rolled to the ground. His body wobbled before falling lifelessly to the ground.   
  
The clicks of readied rifles echoed through the courtyard as the soldiers prepared to open fire. They froze suddenly at the sound of a pair of explosions in their midst, two beams of yellow light flowing down from up on the ridge.   
  
“ _ Soesa! RUN!” _ Raditz called down, panting heavily. He bolted forward as the soldiers recovered from their shock. The girl was too damn slow. They met only a few feet from where Bulma had ended Commander Cui. Raditz grabbed her by the waste and threw her over his shoulder as he made a one-eighty.   
  
“Wait!” Bulma screeched reaching towards where Vegeta’s body lay in the mud. “We can’t leave Vegeta! He’s hurt. We can save him!”   
  
“Cap’ll be fine.” Raditz said bluntly as he sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him.   
  
As he ran, Bulma craned her neck to try and look back. Shafts of moonlight broke through the heavy rain clouds and bathed the bloody courtyard but it was still too dark and too far for her to see. Though she couldn’t see anything, a penetrating howl pierced the darkness. Something about it twisted in the pit of her stomach, reminding her of the saiyans’ occasional howling, but this was far more feral and vicious, and deeper.   
  
The patter of the rain and the echo of distant gunshots shook the trees as they raced towards the pod.

 

* * *

* * *

 

  
  


Translations:   
  


_ Fa’afetai Lava _ : “Thank you very much.”

  
_ Ufa _ : “Ass”

 

_ Kapugi _ : “Shut” as in “Shut your mouth”

 

_ gofo _ : “Sit” or “Stay”

 

_ Ua e Iloa _ : literally: “do you know?”, in context it carries the meaning ‘got it?’ or ‘you hear me?’

 

_ Ioe:  _ “Yes”.

 

_ Ai Kae _ : “Eat Shit”

  
  



	12. Through the Valley

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN: THROUGH THE VALLEY**

* * *

_ I’ll fear no evil because I’m blind _

_ And I walk beside the still waters and they  _

_ Restore my soul  _

_ But I know when I die my soul is damned  _

* * *

  
  
  


It all felt like a dream, a horrible bloody dream. The pain was paralyzing. Vegeta clung to his surroundings frantically clawing his way back to reality. Harsh white lights shone from above him. His eyes wandered lazily about, trying to piece everything back together. He was in the pod but he wasn’t sure how he had gotten there. In fact, he barely remembered anything at all. 

 

He remembered the rain….and the moon.

 

Vegeta was soaked in blood and muddy rainwater...and Bulma couldn’t help but notice he was completely naked. She was more than just a little confused, there would be words with Raditz, but that could wait. She was beginning to think the werewolf theory was more than a little plausible now. But she could think over the conspiracies later. She ripped her jacket from her chest, quickly tossing it over his hips. Not that he seemed to mind none. 

 

Bulma was a far cry from the sniveling, squealing girl she had been when she launched on the Capsule all those months ago. She had assisted in stitching back together more than one person during her time with the saiyans and she had gained a basic knowledge in first aid. She wasn’t a child anymore, she didn’t need someone to validate her pain or her sacrifice. More than once she had wrapped her sprained wrist or stitched her sliced finger without a word to anyone about it. 

 

Despite all of that she felt vastly underprepared and ill-equipped to handle the situation at hand. She looked down at Vegeta with a raw panic that numbed her bones. This was far beyond her realm of expertise. She couldn’t treat wounds like this, not by herself.  And she didn’t know enough about saiyan biology to treat the shock his body was slipping in to. Holding someone’s intestines out of the way while the sawbone stitched their insides back together was one thing but this was entirely different. 

 

Vegeta’s right arm was nearly completely shredded, the splintered bone forcing its way out of the raw, swollen flesh. His body was peppered with what appeared to be small darts. They must’ve come from Cui's gun. Thin, dark, spider webbing crawled from each of the wounds. His fingers and lips were turning purple and his dark, wandering eyes were hidden behind a film of milk.

  
  


Vegeta was still trying to piece together his reality through the heavy fog. If there was one thing he could not handle it was a total lack of control. He tried to move his head, to tighten his fingers into fists but managed barely a twitch, unable to move his right arm at all. Carpet? The lights were painfully bright. That was right. He was in the pod. Then he saw her, everything was so blurry he could barely make her out. She was filthy, tears cut soft rivers through the mud on her cheeks and wisps of blue hair clung to her skin as water droplets dripped from her soaked hair. He could see her mouth moving but he couldn’t hear her. Vegeta tried to push her away but he couldn’t seem to move. The tiniest movements were met with excruciating pain and it was beginning to make him more than a little irate. 

 

Raditz tied his hair back and opened the pod’s small emergency kit. It was vastly under-stocked with only essentials for minor phase burns and the occasional butterfly stitch. Vegeta’s head fell into the crook of his neck and his eyes fluttered back as Bulma felt his breathing suddenly cease.

 

She patted him on the cheek brusquely until she felt him gasp for air once more.

 

“Hey..hey. Stay with us...come on…” 

 

_ No room to panic. You can’t both stop breathing.  _ She told herself.  _ What did Tschev say? It's just like fixing an engine but with squishy parts.  _

 

But by the looks of it this engine needed more than a tune up. It was just as bad as the one back on the ship. 

 

A growl vibrated in his chest. It was feral and for a moment Bulma was afraid to touch him. But she quickly regained her resolve,  snatching the first aid kit from Raditz and tearing through it.

 

Vegeta was losing feeling in his limbs, his entire body slowly going numb and the numbness burned like a fire. Bulma leaned heavily on his chest and shoulder and it hurt like hell. She spoke quickly to Raditz, her other hand stroked his forehead tenderly. It bothered him, making him uncomfortable and more than that, irritated. 

 

At the same time it was oddly soothing.

 

Raditz knelt on his other side to get a better look. If Vegeta had looked worse before, Raditz sure didn’t remember it none and the sight of it all turned his stomach something fierce. Vegeta’s head rested in the crook of his neck, his mouth open as he began to slip into unconsciousness. Raditz grabbed him gently by the face and turned his head upright. His fingers brushed against something hard. A small metal fragment was embedded in the side of his throat. Raditz grabbed hold of it and with some effort pulled it free. Blood began to bubble from the small puncture wound. Vegeta tensed, but made no sound. 

“Goddamned flechettes.” Raditz snapped as he threw the dart on the floor of the pod where it embedded itself in the soft carpet and through the first layer of the floor. 

 

“This...this isn't right. Something isn't right.” Bulma muttered as she held Vegeta’s hand in hers, staring at the sickening shade of purple his nail had turned.

 

“What are you on about?” Raditz snapped. The severity of the situation was not lost on him. And the more out of grasp it felt the more irritable he became. He paced behind her with an urgency that betrayed him, all the while trying to swallow the wriggling feeling in his gut that told him Vegeta was going to die...and it was all his fault. He had walked towards the front of the pod and began to pace, his tail thumping rapidly against the floor.

 

“O ‘oe,” Vegeta slurred angrily, “Sa ‘ou miki ia ‘oe...sa le kakau oga ‘e i ai.*” He muttered in Saiyan. It was peppered with words she didn't understand. He stared at her with delirious curiosity. Venom in his tired eyes. She swept the bangs from his sweaty forehead. 

 

“Raditz. He's not making any sense, he’s just speaking gibberish and his skin is on fire. Quit wearin’ holes in the damned floor and get over here before I beat you.” 

 

Vegeta was so tired, if he could just close his heavy eyes and rest a while. He felt the gentle pull that lulled him to sleep like an undertow numbing his stiff, aching body. Everytime it began to pull him away she would rip him from the arms of rest and ground him to reality.

 

“Let….lemme sleep…” he groaned, he tried to sound as menacing as possible but it came out sounding more like a plea for reprieve. 

 

She cautiously lifted the rag she had held fast to his shoulder. A prickling wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her at the sight of the splintered bone that protruded from his right arm, nestled in the shredded meat of his shoulder and chest. 

 

“You can...you can sleep when...when we get back, I promise.” She choked on the words.    
  
Raditz tripped over one of their bags as he walked up behind Bulma, bumping into her and causing her hand to jerk into Vegeta’s arm, blood squished through her fingers as they slipped into the shredded meat of his shoulder. She drove her elbow into Raditz’s shin and growled at him.   
  
“Watch where you’re going ya jack bastard!” Bulma barked, eyes boring through Raditz. “He’s bad enough without you trying to step all over him!”

  
“To be fair, you seem to mind more than him.” Raditz retorted as he reached into his bag and dug around, throwing his belongs on the floor at his feet.   
  
Looking over Vegeta and his near-complete lack of response, she had to concede he was right. His milky eyes wandered the ceiling aimlessly as if nothing had happened.   
  
“Okay,” Bulma started. “We have to get the bleeding under control… I don’t think any major organs are damaged… it’s mostly his arm and shoulder.”   
  
“Here…” Raditz offered, handing several packets to her. “...well, tear ‘em open and pour them on the wounds!”   
  
Bulma had stared at the packets and then at Raditz with nary a thought as to what they were for. She obeyed his instructions. The packets were small, and each filled with an ounce or so of a fine grey powder.   
  
“They smart like a mother, but they’ll absorb the blood, keep infection out, and kind of form into a paste that’ll keep him from bleedin’ too bad.” Raditz explained as she poured them over Vegeta’s shoulder and arm, taking care not to waste any, but thoroughly applying it to every small puncture that littered Vegeta’s body, including the stray dart here and there that had found targets in Vegeta’s ribs. After she had finished she inspected her work. The bleeding had all but stopped but that wasn’t what concerned her. The webs were darker now and they began to follow the map of his veins until they covered his arms, torso, and face.   
  
“What’s this…? Is that normal?” Bulma asked, examining the spreading webs of black that were spreading from each puncture.   
  
“Is what norm- oh. Shit. No!” Raditz jumped in, pushing Bulma aside to get a better look. The urgency in her voice made her rising hopes crash once again. “Kefe.* Looks like poison….” Raditz kicked himself for not seeing it sooner, not looking sooner...for letting the whole goddamned thing happen in the first place. 

  
  
“Poison!? Well what are we going to do about it?”   
  
“Uhh…” Raditz ran his hands over his face. Eyes wide as he stared at Vegeta’s shivering body.   
  
“Well!?”   
  
“Hell, I ain’t no damned sawbone! Could be anything!” he ran his hands through his hair as he began to mutter frantically. “Never thought I’d ever wish Tschev was around. Give my left-”   
  
“Well, we need to figure this out, fast, cuz it’s spreading….”   
  
Bulma split her gaze between Vegeta and Raditz. Raditz stared at Vegeta. His body seemed to vibrate as his muscles spasmed violently. Blood soaked the pristine white carpet of the pod beneath him. Bulma’s voice pulled Raditz from his spiral of panic.   
  
“Hey Rad?”   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“Would it kill Vegeta to get him cold?”   
  
Raditz looked at her as if she was speaking in tongues. After a moment of mental gymnastics he conceded, shaking his head and sighing,“What do you mean?”   
  
“Well, the body is essentially just a sack of chemicals, right?” Bulma paused for a response, then simply continued when the look on Raditz’s face told her he wasn’t getting it. “Uh...Look, if we can lower his temperature, it’ll slow down the chemical reaction - whatever it is - of the poison in his system. Maybe.”   
  
“I see what you’re saying, but I think I heard Tschev say some organic compound something or nother broke down the bonds of whatnot if you got it too hot. So… what if getting him colder just makes the poison more tough?”   
  
“Truly, you are a fount of knowledge, Rad.” Bulma wasn’t sure if sarcasm translated into Saiyan.

 

“Thanks.” came the reply. Either it didn’t translate or Raditz was just too thick to get it.   
  
“So what do we do?” Bulma asked.

 

Vegeta's head jerked forward as he vomited all over himself, hot bile soaking Bulma's already filthy top. While Bulma would normally have returned the favor in kind, instead she hastily shed the outer layers of her clothing now covered in sick and tossed them aside. A pathetic gurgle escaped his throat as he choked on his own bile. She lifted his head before his body dry heaved again.   
  
“Your call, Rad.”   
  


Raditz stood silently, watching his captain in the arms of their captive. He hated making decisions. Whatever he chose always ended up being wrong - and this time ‘wrong’ meant ‘dead’ for his captain.  _ Don’t Hesistate. _ His father’s voice echoed in his head.  _ Just trust yourself. _   
  
“Alright, Soesa. Let me get in there…”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma folded her uniform jacket and tucked it carefully under his head. Raditz had finished his work and it seemed to have helped, at least a little. Vegeta’s breathing had slowed, and his body spasmed less.   
  
“Hey, Raditz!” Bulma called to the front of the pod where the young Saiyan sat in the pilot’s chair.   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“Let me have your armband.”   
  
“You already took it, remember?” Raditz responded.   
  
Bulma actually smiled, the recollection of her innocent flirting with Raditz actually distracting her for a second.   
  
“Hm…” she said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I used it to tie my hair back… thought I left it in my pocket...ugh….”   
  
“Just tear a strip of fabric off somethin’ already.” Raditz called back, seemingly aware of Bulma’s intent. She did so, with some effort. She heard Raditz chuckle from the cockpit as she grunted to take a strip of from the hem of Stoks’ shirt but decided to ignore it, it was funny, afterall. Here she was surrounded by a crew of super-strong aliens and she could barely tear fraying cloth. Once she had what she needed, she turned back to Vegeta to wrap his wounds and try to immobilize his arm. She kept her hand wrapped in the outermost strip once she was done, feeling a bit of comfort in the act, as if she were somehow holding him together.

 

As his eyes would flutter closed and his breathing would slow Bulma would twist the fabric even deeper into her clenched fist, blood and rainwater squishing through her fingers and grainy mud lodging itself deeper under her nails as she pressed harder into the wound. They danced this dance again and again. He would begin to sink and she would rip him from the dark waters. She passed the hours talking to him, singing, rubbing his face...anything to keep him awake if only for a little longer. Slowly washing the dirt from his body as she did it and tucking him beneath the wool blanket. Time seemed to pass so quickly as she existed in that single moment, paying no mind to the pins and needles in her legs that had been tucked underneath her, his head resting on her lap for hours now. Or to the dried mud on her face that pulled and itched the skin. Every ounce of her being was focused on one thing and one things alone keeping their captain alive.

 

Raditz was eerily silent as he manipulated the controls. It would take them two days to get back home. Bulma worried that Vegeta didn’t have two days to spare.

 

* * *

 

Lato sat cross-legged on the floor of her room. She generally didn’t sleep long hours as the others, but tonight she didn’t sleep at all. It had been almost five days, and while she had few worries previously, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone wrong.   
  
There had been no telling what could have happened to delay their progress, but still, Lato, and the others for that matter, had expected them earlier that evening. Ironically, Lato herself had been the one to settle the others.   
  
“Don’t worry,” She had said. “We don’t know how far from the base they had to land to keep from being scanned on entry. We don’t know how methodically the base’s guard rotation had been set up… it’ll be fine. Honestly, we shouldn’t expect them for another day at least.”   
  
It seemed to settle the nerves of the others. She hoped it lasted long enough in their minds that the away-team would return before worries and doubts crept back in.   
  
It was too late for Lato.   
  
So she sat. She sat and held Raditz’s armband in her fingers, rubbing her thumb back and forth across its texture. She had never had the courage to talk to Raditz, not really anyway. She told herself it was because he was a low-class saiyan and the others wouldn’t approve. But if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t care what the others thought. In truth she wasn’t sure the others would’ve cared much either, not now anyways. Nappa might have. The blockhead did have a certain obsession with their cultural traditions. But not the others. The truth was she was simply scared of intimacy, and she always had been. Even in normal situations, like meals or while hunting, she never had participated much in the banter and communal mockery they engaged in. She hated herself for being different.

 

But these were her people, and they were all she had left. 

 

* * *

 

“This don't change nothing between us.” Tschev spat in her usual impetuous manner.

 

“You say that an awful lot, y'know.” 

 

“Eh. Sau'ai*. Let's get one thing straight, mmm. I hate you, and you hate me.” She growled menacingly as she ripped her shorts the rest of the way off and kicked them across the room.  

 

“Feeling’s mutual.”  he chuckled passively as he laid back on the table, his arms resting beneath his head. He stared up at the yellow bell light that swung slowly back and forth. She plucked the unlit cigarette from his mouth and cast it aside as she straddled his waist. He began to voice his protest but she quickly silenced him as she smashed her mouth against his. 

 

* * *

 

_ One, two, three, five, six, nine, four.  _

 

Nappa tossed the small rocks against the side of the ship so hard they pinged off and came hurling back towards him. He caught them one at a time with his other hand and continued his relentless assault on his home. Nappa had never been one to worry. That was the plain and simple spit of it all. But he was worried now. Something didn’t sit right in his guts and Nappa always listened to his guts. They had never lead him astray. Well...maybe once or twice but nothing worth writin’ home about. The point was Nappa was nearly, mostly, always right and something told him that something was wrong. 

 

He felt the ground rumble beneath his feet and looked up towards the sky. The darkness erupted into brilliant light for a single moment as the pod broke through the atmosphere.

 

“Ya did it kid. Always knew ya could.” Nappa laughed to himself as he shielded his eyes from the light.

 

They landed not far off and Nappa got there just in time to hear the hiss of the pod door as it began to open. 

 

He laughed heartily as the door crunched the dry ground but he stopped. Nappa felt it again, that somethin’ in his gut that said something was wrong and as he stared on the tiny pebbles fell from his hands to the dust below.  

 

“Welcome ho-” the word caught in his throat as he stared on in the darkness. Raditz and Bulma stumbled down the ramp, carefully cradling Vegeta’s limp body between the two of them. 

 

* * *

 

Medical supplies and clothes lay cluttered across the floors and counters.. Bardock’s shirt hung from the door to an open cupboard. He felt teeth rake deep into his skin as she licked the salt from his throat. He tightened his grip about her soft waist, his fingers dug into her milky skin and she moaned, her tail tightened around his thigh as they jutted back and forth against each other atop the metal table. He had long since ripped the glorified rag she called a top off of her. Her bare breasts rubbed against his chest as she rode him. 

 

She was hard and fast and ruthless...she was  _ insatiable _ .

 

….not that he minded none. 

 

It had been so long since he had felt physical contact of any kind, every touch was simply electric. He shivered beneath her as she bit his bottom lip, suckling it and pulling on it with her teeth. She pulled away from their messy kiss, slowing for a moment as she caught him eyein’ her. She watched him, her face scrunched up, her head tilting to the side. Honestly he didn’t understand her at all, had no idea how to read her. She lifted her hand and cupped the scarred side of his face, running her thumb back and forth across his cheek. It was more tender and gentle than he thought she was capable of. She smirked at him mischievously and drove her hips against his. A growl caught in his throat and turned into a purr as he ran his teeth across the delicate skin of her breast, flicking his tongue and relishing in her moans. 

 

It was more than just a good romp around, it was pure ecstasy. 

 

She was rough and messy and he loved every damn second of it. 

 

He chased away the ache that never seemed to dull, the ache that Gine had left. For a moment he banished it from himself entirely with Tschev’s soft curves. Tschev chased away Basil with the smell of smoke and ash that clung to his skin. They both knew it was never going to last. Neither much minded none. It didn’t need to. One day they’d follow the same way Gine n’ Basil had gone. For now it was good enough for the two of them. 

 

Just two lonely saiyans trying to feel a little less lonely. 

 

Raditz burst into the medical bay and stopped dead in his tracks. The dire nature of the situation fizzled into nothingness instantly at the sight. Tschev and Bardock turned to him, making no move to stop what they were doing. 

 

“What do you want,  _ ki’o*? _ ” Tschev mused playfully as she ground her hips against Bardock over and over again. Raditz could not find the words, instead settling for a long, slow “uhhhh”. The last thing in one thousand years that Raditz had expected to see was his father and Tschev rollin’ about. 

 

He stared wide-eyed, his brain completely fried. The two saiyans untangled themselves from one another shamelessly. Bardock pulled his pants up casually and lit a cigarette as Tschev pulled his top over her bare breasts. It was comically large on her and made her look even more like a child. 

 

She walked past Raditz, reaching up and patting him on the shoulder. “Next time you’re looking for a little fun you’re free to join us.” she smirked. 

 

The thought of sharing a woman with his father turned Raditz’s stomach.  

 

Tschev was almost out the door when Raditz finally recovered enough to remember what he had come down here for in the first place.   
  
“Come back, Tschev.” He said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  
“Excuse me? I don’t take orders from you... _ son _ .” Her indignant glare melting into a dark smirk.   
  
“You don’t understand.” Raditz nearly whimpered. His heart sinking further down his spine with every passing moment. “Ve...Vegeta’s hurt.”

 

* * *

 

Under the soft, yellow light of the medical bay Vegeta looked so much worse than he had in the pod. Bulma’s guts twisted painfully at the sight and she wrapped her filthy arms around her bare stomach. Leaning back into the counter as the saiyans crowded around the table.

 

Her mind slowly wove back and forth as she watched the saiyans move frantically about the cramped space. All of it seemed to move so slowly. Nappa pulled his belt from his pants and folded it, sliding it tenderly into Vegeta’s mouth. He cupped the boy’s face with his giant hand and let Vegeta’s head fall into his palm. She had never seen him so quiet and serious. Through the chaos she couldn’t be quite sure but she could’ve sworn she saw him blinking back tears. Tschev was barking orders at people and hurling personal insults as Bardock and Lato scrambled to calmly and quickly follow her orders. The smallest saiyan was more irritable than normal, which was impressive. And Raditz...Raditz stood behind Bulma, frozen as the world erupted into chaos around him, his face drenched in guilt and shame.

 

Part of her felt relief. Vegeta’s life no longer rested solely in her hands. But that reprieve gave way to the aching guilt and the questions that bubbled thick at the edges of her mind. 

 

Where had this gone so horribly wrong? If they  _ had _ followed the plans would it have changed anything? 

 

With some effort Tschev carefully pulled Vegeta’s arm from where it curled into his chest and he cried out, catching a scream in his throat, and biting down on his lip. It was painful to hear but it was the first sound he had made in hours and it gave Bulma a shred of comfort. She was free, no longer responsible. Tschev now shouldered that weight and Bulma did not envy her.  As the clay that had formed in his wounds cracked, hot blood bubbled from his shoulder and spilled over the edges of the table. 

 

“What happened out there?” Tschev barked as she held down the rags against the wound, mopping up the blood. 

 

But it was painfully silent, the tension mounting with every ragged and harsh breath. Vegeta screamed into the leather belt through gritted teeth as Nappa held his squirming body down against the table. Tschev leaned on the edge of the table to pull herself up, her fingers barely grazed his skin and his eyes shot open. Tschev cocked her head to the side and pulled down the blanket, tossing it aside. She ran her hand along the skin of his torso, fingers following the dark lines of his veins and the webs that spread from the wounds.  

 

“Poison? KEFE!* Damn it.” Tschev yelled as she slammed her fist into the table, denting it. “Somebody tell me what happened.” Tschev screamed. Vegeta was in no place to talk, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, his eyes rolling blindly around the room, not really seeing anything as he clung desperately to consciousness.

 

All Bulma could do is stare as Tschev pulled out her array of frightening tools. With one hand on his shoulder and the other on his forehead she spoke to him with uncharacteristic tenderness.

 

“Are you ready, Tautai?” she asked Vegeta, but before he could respond she grabbed hold of the bone and shoved it down into this arm, setting it with a violent, wet crack. Quickly she pressed the rags against his arm. Vegeta's teeth clenched down hard on the leather belt, as a hoarse scream ripped through his throat. His head shot forward, eyes fluttered, and his head flopped to the side as he lost consciousness. Silence hovered over the room, as eyes slowly gravitated toward Raditz and Bulma.

 

The entire crew was crammed into the small room that had become the makeshift medical bay, crowded around the table where their captain and their prince lay slipping in and out of consciousness. Bulma could feel the tension mounting with the rapid fluttering of her heart. 

 

“Someone better start talkin’.” Bardock muttered angrily. IT was quiet and Bulma barely heard it but no one else strained to hear. They all turned to Raditz and Bulma, waiting for an explanation.

  
  


Nothing. 

  
  


“Now.” in an instant his arm was smashed into Raditz’s throat, pinning him against the dingy metal wall. Raditz winced, his eyes screwed tight. Tschev’s quick and rough handiwork was the only release in the tension. Bulma had never seen her so intently focused about anything. 

 

“H-he….I...” Raditz choked. 

 

Bardock slammed him into the wall again lifting his feet off the ground, the cigarette falling from his mouth as he screamed at his son. “Ya what  _ Raditz? _ ” 

 

Bulma wanted to tell them everything that had happened but she found herself unable to speak.

 

“Damn it.” Bardock screamed, yanking his arm away and letting Raditz fall to the floor. Raditz struggled to regain his composure, standing quickly and scrambling to speak.

 

“I planned this mission out meticulously. If you wise asses had followed the damn plan none of this woulda happened. And we coulda waltzed outta here with not so much as a  _ stubbed toe _ . So quit beatin’ the devil round the stump and someone tell me what the hell went wrong.” Bardock was running his hand up through his hair and over his blind eye. “Now!”

 

The outburst from the normally apathetic man surprised Bulma. Tschev was used to being on the receiving end of his anger, usually inciting it intentionally and didn't bat an eye when he screamed. But she didn’t smirk or snort like she usually did when she managed to wriggle under his skin. She was focused on one thing and one thing alone. Vegeta. Nappa looked to Raditz and when he said nothing he sighed and took his large hand from where it rested tenderly on Vegeta’s head. 

 

“Raditz, I know you don’t feel like talkin’ none about it. Lord knows none of us would, but we need to know what happened or we can’t...” he swallowed hard. “By the looks of it Vegeta got hit pretty bad like and you don’t seem none of a whisper of a scratch. Why’s that?” 

 

“I was supposed to watch out for the  _ Soesa _ , but they were scrambling air support. I told her to stay and went to take out the command center. She was gone when I was done, so I figured she’d headed back. When I got there, it was just the Cap’n n’ me. They got her, Vegeta went to save ‘er, told me to stay behind. I went after anyway, saw ‘im get blasted near point-blank with flechette rounds. I gave some cover and got her out, keepin’ my head low since the moon was out. Vegeta gone Usaru, finished ‘em up, and came back to the pod and collapsed.”   
  
“Why in the hell were you split up in the first place!? There was a plan!”   
  
“Vegeta just kinda gave us orders before we could even go over the plan.” Bulma interjected, trying to take some heat off of Raditz.   
  
“You had DAYS on the ship! Why didn’t- y’know what? Nevermind.” Bardock was getting too upset to think clearly.   
  
“It’s not our fault, Vegeta-” Bulma continued.

 

“Just shut up.” Bardock said dismissively, before turning to Raditz. “When I’m done with you, there won’t be enough left of you to snore.” Bardock spat. 

 

Before the violence broke out Nappa interjected. 

 

“Lato.” 

 

Bulma blinked and Lato was gone. 

 

“Soesa.” Bulma found herself lifting her head in response to the nickname she had been given only then noticing her mouth was agape. She shut it quickly, chewing on her lip and wrapping her arms around herself to keep them from shaking. “Lend yer hands, if need be. Everyone else  _ out.  _ You know the drill. Now go, all of you.”

 

Bulma nodded. She pulled an overturned stool up and sat down in one of the broken chairs near the head of the table, only then realising her fist were clenched tightly about her. White knuckles and sweaty palms, she had deliberately pulled apart her stiff fingers. Tschev ignored her, moving around her or reaching across her for the occasional tool or rag. 

 

“It’s awful.” Bulma muttered to herself as Tschev began her work. 

 

“Not surprising though.” Tschev muttered as she turned over his arm inspecting the dark veins. “Raditz is about as handy as a back pocket on a shirt.” 

 

Bulma couldn't help but smile at her. Tschev was talking to her and it hadn’t digressed into death threats and snarling. The thought alone made her anxious. 

 

“Bardock’ll lambast him nice and good.” Tschev grumbled. 

 

“He’ ' ll what?” 

 

“He's gon’ beat the devil out of him.” 

 

Tschev stopped and with a musing look of curiosity she cocked her head to the side. 

 

“Hmm?” she mused.

 

“He….” She couldn't find the words. “Hey, Tschev?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“What’s ‘ _ kefe’ _ mean?”   
  
Tschev laughed out loud, her hands still not missing a beat. “I’ll tell you later, wouldn’t want to sully your pretty ears. Now hand me that knife.”

* * *

 

“You know what I always say. If it ain’t one damn thing it’s another.” Nappa grunted as he dropped his tired body onto the gnarled log next to the large, cold fire-pit. They hadn’t used it since the others left on the away mission. Lato sat next to him.   
  
“At least it seems like we killed the homing beacon quick enough. They’d’ve been here by now if it’d been picked up.”

 

“Yeah, that’s for true. Hey, I seen the way you seen Rad and I just wanted you to know the offers is still open here if-” He started but the conversation was quickly forgotten. Lato silently thanked the Gods. Their attention snapped upwards as light streaked across the sky.   
  
“Looks like we spoke too soon.” Lato mused, her expression hardly changing.   
  
“What’d I tell you? One thing or another. Welp, we’re not in the fire if we’re in the frying pan!” Nappa declared.   
  
“It’s ‘out of the frying-’ nevermind. We should power down the ship as much as possible so they can’t pinpoint us. Should keep ‘em off of Vegeta’s back as he recovers.” Lato responded.   
  
“Way ahead of you.” Nappa said. “Get the others. Raditz’ll be grateful to see Bardock lynchin’ someone else. I’ll meet you three clicks to the north. You won’t miss me. Neither will they, hehehe.”   
  
Lato could feel his grin as he cracked his knuckles. A bit of slaughter would do them all a world of good.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Translations:   
  
_ “O ‘oe… Sa ‘ou miki ia ‘oe...sa le kakau oga ‘e i ai.” _ : “It’s you...I dreamt of you... You shouldn’t have been there.”

 

_ Kefe _ : ‘Circumcised’ or ‘to circumcise’; akin to the english ‘fuck’ in usage.

 

_ Sau’ai _ : Ogre

 

_ Ki’o:  _ ‘to shit’, or ‘shit’. 

  
  
  
  



	13. Grafted into the Army

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: GRAFTED INTO THE ARMY**

* * *

_ She finally puckered up courage and went, _

_ When they grafted her into the army. _

_ I told them the child was too young, alas _

_ At the captain’s forequarters, they said she would pass _

* * *

* * *

  
  


  
“You need to pull your head out yer barrels,” Tschev muttered angrily as she inspected the lines on Vegeta’s neck. Bulma was snapped back to the present by Tshcev’s quipped voice- she had been dozing on her feet. At least an hour had passed since Tschev’s work had began. Until he grunted disdainfully at Tschev, Bulma had not thought Vegeta was conscious.“One these days cap, your luck is gonna run out.” 

 

“I don’t...take orders from you.” Vegeta drawled dazedly, his head turning away from her in spite as he did so.   
  
“Look, y’know I wouldn’t normally say nothin’ ‘bout it, considering you’d lam me quicker than dry reed in a bonfire, but I never done well with authority, so considering your present situationals, I figured I’d say my peace. I know what you’re doin’ and it’s stupid.”   
  
“Do you, mmm?” his slurred voice dripping with venom.   
  
“Bulma told me the whole tale. Cui wasn’t that close, and he ain’t  _ that _ fast. And the scum holding you were prob’ly weaker than the  _ Soesa _ here. You coulda avoided most of this if you’d wanted. Why didn’t you, mmm? Couldn’t have anything to do with  _ senikai,  _ could it?”

  
Tschev had a knowing smile.

 

“I have it under control.” 

 

“Do ya now?” Tschev laughed darkly. 

  
“Excuse me,” Bulma interjected timidly, “What exactly is a _zenkai_? I’ve heard it twice now…”  
  
Both the saiyans shot her a look that said ‘ _Not the place’_.   
  
“Alright, sorry. Keep on...keepin’ on then.” Bulma huffed, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back against the wall. The two continued their conversation in hushed tones, having switched to Saiyan. Bulma caught a few words here and there, but that was it. 

 

The conversation lasted a few more minutes before the familiar tense quiet returned as Vegeta slipped into a fever haze. The silence broken only by the strangely soothing sound of Tschev’s methodical work. 

 

“Ugh, what  _ now?! _ ” Tschev yelled without warning.

 

Bulma was ripped from the arms of rest as her head collided with her knee. She was terrible at sleeping when stressed, which meant she hadn’t gotten any really good sleep for weeks, and next-to-none in the last three days... She began to pull her bag from across her chest, sitting up in the chair she’d been using.

 

Tschev turned towards the door and Bulma was sure she’d finally completely snapped - there was nobody there, nothing had disturbed the quiet air of the medical bay. After a few seconds, Bulma realized there were footsteps approaching, and getting louder. Whoever it was, was in a hurry. As if on queue to answer the question Bulma was about to ask, Bardock appeared in the doorway.   
  
“Looks like we fixin’ to have us a lynchin’ bee.” He said. “Purgers. And they ain’t messin’ round this time. ‘Tleast three ships.” was all he said. Bulma blinked and he was gone.

 

“Shit. Listen. I've stabilized him for now but he ain't outta the woods yet. Don't touch him, don't even  _ look _ at ‘im. Just sit here ‘n look perty ‘til we get back. Got it?” 

 

Bulma nodded. 

 

Now was a good a time as any, right?

 

“Tschev! Wait.” 

 

Tschev prickled at the sound of Bulma's voice. Her hand on the doorframe, she spoke without turning around. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

“I have something for you.” the words tumbled out of her mouth clumsily before she lost all confidence. 

 

Tschev slowly turned to face her, her expression a mask of confusion and irritation. Bulma was walking towards her digging through her canvas bag that she had clumsily pulled from her shoulder, almost tripping over the leg of the table on the way. She pulled out a book wrapped in a cord, from the end of the necklace hung a rock. Tschev recognized it instantly and found herself side swept by the hot sting of tears in her eyes. This may not have been the  _ last  _ thing she expected to see but it was pretty damn near close the top of the list. She snatched the book from Bulma’s hand hastily, as if she were afraid it would disappear altogether. 

 

“Where did you get this?”  she snapped suspiciously. 

 

Bulma debated telling her about the dream she had had but quickly lost the resolve. 

 

“I...found it in the engine, if you can believe it.” 

 

Tschev was silent for a moment, her fingers resting reverently on the cover of the book. Her hard expression softened by overwhelming emotion. 

 

“Look…” 

 

Bulma waited, unsure of what would happen next. 

 

“You are…” Tschev started again and again finding herself unable to finish a sentence growing more flustered and irate as she went. She looked up at Bulma, her fierce eyes locking with Bulma’s unsure eyes. “I….it ain't yer fault.”

 

“I just…” Tschev pursed her lips as she scrambled to find the words. “Here.” She sloppily pulled one of her pistols from its holster and shoved it into Bulma’s hands as if it were on fire. “Take this. Ya might need it.” 

  
  


* * *

 

Tschev dug her bare toes into the hot, dry sand and looked back at the ship hesitantly. She felt a little better about leaving since the little harlot had taken the pistol she had offered, not that she knew how to use it anyways. She just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

 

Vegeta was completely defenseless with nothing but a delicate lil’ blossom to guard him. 

 

Bardock tousled her hair playfully, resting his heavy hand on her head. “Don't worry none. He’s been in tighter spots before.” 

 

“No. He hasn't.” her eyes were still fixed on the ship. Lato and Nappa would be waiting for them. 

 

Bardock knew she was right and didn't try and argue it. Spitting the butt of his cigarette into the dirt, he sniffed the wind. 

 

“Come on, this way.” 

 

* * *

 

The saiyans had finally grouped together and found themselves standing in front of a small squadron of nearly forty soldiers. Nappa sauntered forward slowly, meeting the eyes of the first alien without saying a word. He chuckled to himself quietly.

 

“Halt! Heathen!” the captain shouted as he trained his rifle on Nappa.

 

“Well look what ya done did. You went an’, ” Nappa began to fake a blubbering sniffle, “an’ ya done hurt muh feelers.” 

 

The soldiers looked surprised and more than a little uncomfortable, unsure of how to react.  A symphony of clicks as they trained their phase rifles at Nappa, who merely stepped forward casually. 

 

The muttering of the soldiers was drowned out by the saiyans guffaws and howling laughter. 

 

The young commander stood frozen, terrified, staring at the man literally twice his height, bare rippling chest dripping with sweat, tail wrapped right around his waist, who walked towards him fearlessly. 

 

Napa took a step forward and rested his hand on the soldier’s head, his gigantic palm gripped his skull like it was no bigger than a grapefruit. The soldier regained his senses and what courage he had left and pointed his phase gun up at Nappa.

 

“Halt! In the name of Lord Fr-” 

 

The low class warriors stared in horror as Nappa ripped the man’s head upwards tearing his spine from his body as easily as picking a springtime flower.

 

Still holding the head, spine dangling from his huge hand, he reached up and scratched his nose with his thumb. 

 

“See, I don't like it none when people shout at me. Makes me all mad like.” he stated casually. 

 

Lato nodded tenderly. “It's very true. Nappa here is a sensitive soul.”

 

“Yeah.” Tschev snorted and spat in the dirt. “A warrior poet, really.” 

 

The saiyans met this with more hooting laugher and howling. 

 

Not a single soldier wasn’t trembling at least a bit, and several had wet themselves. The second-in-command lowered his weapon, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as he took a step forward.   
  
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot…” he started.   
  
“Well ya don’t say?” Nappa cut in.   
  
“...I mean...I think I can speak for the rest of the squad here that this planet was empty! Right men!? No saiyans here, whatsoever, yeah?”   
  
“Oh come on, you can’t threaten us with a play-date then renege on your obligationals, can ya?”   
  
“Nappa how do you know what ‘renege’ means?” Tschev called up from where she stood.   
  
“I KNOW THINGS!” Nappa yelled. The sudden outburst cause a few more leaks to spring up among the purgers. “Anyway, back to the matter at hand…” a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he turned back towards their would-be attackers.

 

“I'm afraid we can't let you leave.” Lato responded calmly, almost sounding genuinely apologetic as she slid the large bowie knife from its sheath in the small of her back. “Not you or the soldiers from the other two ships... “ The purgers all began to slowly back away from the saiyans.

 

Losing patience, Tschev pounced on the soldier nearest her, her tiny body landing on his sternum. With a dark grin she shoved her fingers inside his mouth. A swift, crack and she had ripped it apart, tearing the jaw from his skull and landing on all fours like a cat before his body fell to the ground. 

 

She let out a howl as she spun around to stand, driving her knife through the eye socket of the soldier behind her and dragging it down through his jaw. 

 

Raditz made quick work of another shoving a gut hook under his ribs and tossing him effortlessly like a bale of hay. 

 

With no other option than to at least  _ try _ not to die, the purgers variously opened fire or attempted to engage in melee with the saiyans that were too close - their rifles had bayonets and had reinforced stocks specifically for hand-to-hand combat.   
  
Tschev was on her third victim when the butt of a rifle collided into her face. She stepped back in shock. The purger himself seemed more shocked than even her - he had actually managed to hit one of them.   
  
“Bad move….” she said, suggestively licking the blood that trickled from her nose, before charging forward.

  
Nappa was chortling with glee only rivalled by children at Christmas, taking down a purger with every swing of his fists.   
  
“Hey asshole! Punch this!” A purger yelled from behind him, a small red bead of light dancing on his back. He turned around, but too slow.   
  
The rifle fired- straight into the air. The purger screamed in agony, dropping his weapon and holding his wrist - now missing a hand. Lato had slipped right in from behind him. His scream was cut short as her knife tore through the back of one of his legs and then into his throat before his body could even hit the ground.   
  
Half a dozen other purgers closed in around the small woman, their weapons leveled at her. As they began to fire, she twisted and spun with effortless ease, not even bothering to look any of them in the eyes as she weaved around and through the group of them, each falling as quickly as her first victim.   
  


“Alpha squadron! Gamma Squadron! This is epsilon! We’re being overwhelmed, request support immedi-”   
  
“Uh-uh-uh…” Raditz taunted, his bale-hook embedded into the man’s skull from underneath his jaw.   
  
“Damnit, Raditz! Let ‘em call for help! I’m having fun!” Nappa yelled - he was lifting two into the air, holding each by their skull. He crashed the two together, gore spraying across his face and chest as the two men went limp.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma listened to the creak of the bell light as it swung gently back and forth. Vegeta moaned quietly as he shivered into the layers of blankets and sheets Tschev had tucked him under. His shallow, slow breaths rattled in his chest. 

 

The sound of the hatch hissing open pulled her thoughts from the webs of poison that danced under his skin. 

 

The saiyans hadn't been gone that long. Bulma opened her mouth to call out and stopped herself. 

 

She set down the heavy pistol on the table next to Vegeta's head and groped desperately inside her bag for her phaser when she heard a communicator beep.  
  
“Corporal” somebody whispered. “I’ve traced the saiyan life-sign to the next room… converge on my position and be ready to engage.”  
  
Bulma froze, her fingertips white as they gripped the phase gun in her bag. She was too scared to even breathe.  
  
It seemed like an eternity before she heard several pairs of boots approaching from outside. They were either moving incredibly slowly or Bulma heard them from further away than she thought. Pride seemed to swell in her chest - weeks being around these damn _sneaky_ saiyans must have sharpened her senses. She almost felt like herself again for the first time since being captured - she was amazing, wasn’t she? Almost amazing enough to forget that certain doom was gathering right outside the door…  
  
The door burst open.  
  
 _Tseew._ _Thud_.   
  
Bulma fired, and from the sound of things at least one was hit.   
  
“Shit! He’s ambulatory!”

 

“Impossible, the life sign is incredibly weak. Communique from the shipyard says Cui filled him with enough zeptrodotoxin to kill even Frieza!”   
  
Bulma mustered the courage to open her eyes. Three more stood in the doorway, stunned.   
  
“Can saiyans have blue hair?” One asked.   
  
“I never seen no-”    
  
_ Tseew. Thud. _ __   
__   
“Fuck. Get her!”   
  
Bulma screamed, panic overtaking her as she began to fire blindly.   
  
_ Tseew. Tseew. Tseew. Thud. Tseew. _ __   
__   
_ Click. Click. Click. _ Her phase pistol had run itself out of power. It was only designed to fire a few times, but Bulma had figured that it was a worthy trade-off for how concealable it was. She stood panting, her eyes screwed shut for several seconds before getting her panic under control enough to evaluate the destruction she caused.   
  
The wall of the medical bay was littered with scorch marks, as was the far wall of the hallway outside the door. Three men lay dead on the floor.  _ Wait… _ she thought.  _ There was another- _   
  
“Well, wasn’t that impressive, you blue-headed twat!”    
  
The remaining soldier had managed to dive into the room and avoid her fire. He now stood behind her, his hand across her mouth, holding her wrist with the other. It was an all too familiar situation and thinking back to Cui and his slimy, cold skin, Bulma screamed impotently into his palm. The alien buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply and sighing with content. An odd clicking sound twitched in the back of his throat.   
  
“Looks to me we’ve got some time. I think I’ll have a little fun here before I finish you off and take your precious prince back to Lord Fri-”   
  
_ Bang! _ __   
__   
All other sounds disappeared, replaced by a steady ringing in Bulma’s ears. The iron grip on her wrist and face slowly slackened as the man fell to the floor. She turned to the metal table where Vegeta was sitting up, smoke slowly rising from the barrel of the pistol that Bulma had careless discarded when searching for her phase gun.

 

It slid from his hand and dropped to the floor.    
  
“If anyone is going to kill the  _ Soesa _ , it’s going to be me.” he muttered, hazy eyes wandering about the room blindly before falling back onto the table.   
  


But Bulma didn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears.   
  


* * *

 

“Alpha squadron…. They certainly weren’t taking any chances here…” Bardock said, taking a long drag off his cigarette while the others put their “ _ having two arms ‘n all” _ to good use in collecting the bodies into a pile.   
  
“You sure this is everyone?” Lato asked Tschev and Nappa, as they were putting the last of the deceased on the pile.   
  
“Yuppers! These guys bleed a lot - hard to miss.” Nappa responded, taking a big whiff in through the nose. “We need to get attacked more often. I miss this.” he sighed nostalgically.   
  


“How should I know?” Tschev grumbled as she wedged her bare foot under a soldier and kicked his body onto the pile.    
  


“I think we have a problem, then.” Lato said. “Each squad should have at least thirty-five men, and there’s always a sergeant and a corporal… I haven’t found either among the alpha squad, and there’s only thirty two to boot...”   
  
The saiyans all shared a knowing look between them before throwing caution to the wind and dashing towards the ship.   
  
“Hope that damn blue-topped mab…” Tschev started to the others as they ran, not bothering to finish her sentence. They all knew exactly what she meant.   
  
  


 

* * *

 

 

Bulma was still standing by the head of the table, her phase gun threatening to drop from her open palms. 

 

Since her time with the saiyans had begun she had done many things she had never thought she would, including holding someone’s intestines in her hands. But in the past week she had killed  _ four _ people. 

 

The saiyans toppled over each other as they raced through the ship. Each taking note of the burn holes down the hallways and through the doorway of the medical bay and saying nothing. 

 

Nappa was the first inside, muscling his way through the crowd, he stumbled over the bodies in the entry to the medical bay and stopped. 

 

Wait. 

 

No. 

 

This wadn’t right. Not at all. 

 

The  _ Soesa _ stood frozen by the head of the table, holding some strange scanner or somethin’ of the like and Vegeta was curled up on the table. Sleepin’ all peaceful like...well  _ sorta. _

 

They were alive. They were both  _ alive. _

 

Nappa thought he was going to cry. He bounded over to the  _ Soesa _ and picked her up, hugging her close and twisting back and forth. She let out a squeak, threatening to burst.

 

“Oh ho ho are we glad to see ya in one piece  _ Soesa. _ We done thought you’da been done away with forthwithly.” 

 

The other saiyans trickled into the medical bay inspecting the carnage with disbelief.   
  
“Well. Guess you’re not  _ entirely  _ useless after all.” Tschev said.

 

“They...they wanted Vegeta. They were going to take him.” Bulma mumbled once Nappa had realized he was asphyxiating her and put her down. She looked at the saiyans for answers. No one seemed surprised by this.

 

“Yes. They were. Good thing you were here, kid.” Bardock said, flicking her nose affectionately with his knuckle. She looked up at him with panic in her eyes and he tousled her hair. “Don’t worry none. It’s all okay now.” 

 

* * *

 

 

No one had visited Vegeta since they arrived back on the ship nearly two days earlier. After they had disposed of the purge team they had been left completely alone. Tschev went in only once to check on his progress. No one would tell her anything more than ‘he is fine for now’. Bulma had begged and pleaded and finally they conceded, allowing her to take him food. She felt the smallest shred of guilt knowing her motives weren't nearly as altruistic as they had seemed.

 

But the more contact she had with the world of the saiyans the more questions she had. Questions that were always met with vague answers or dismissal. Enough was enough.

 

Bulma watched him for a while from the doorway of the medical bay. She had heard Tschev recount to Nappa that he looked ‘nearly half dead’ to her and acted as much. But seeing him now she decided he looked like little more than a corpse.

 

He was shivering, sweating out a fever that hadn't broken in nearly five days. Tschev had done all she could do and had reassured them that only time and rest would work the remaining poison from his system. She was adamant about it. He was not to be disturbed for  _ anything. _ As much as Vegeta was loathe to do nothing but sleep, he didn't have the strength to do much else. 

 

Bulma. He always saw her, heard her, before she was close enough to spit. But this time he didn’t seem to notice her at all, jumping as she knocked on the doorframe. With a forced cheerfulness she cleared her throat and stepped inside. 

 

“Dinner time, Cap.” 

 

She quickly made her way across the small room and stood to the right of his bedside. He barely lifted his hand from where it lay, bunched in the folds of the woolen blanket and sheets, twitching his fingers dismissively.

 

“I'm not hungry.” He muttered. It was so quiet she barely heard him at all. If she wasn't worried before she definitely was now. Saiyans were  _ always _ hungry. She was beginning to wonder if he was in worse shape than they thought. Before she had a chance to argue the point further he pulled the blanket tighter around himself and cleared his throat. 

 

“Why are you here,  _ Soesa _ ?” his voice turning to ash in his raw throat.

“Because you kidnapped and enslaved me and you're forcing me to fix this sorry excuse for a ship you call home.” She laughed under her breath but it was weak and not even she was convinced. 

 

“You know what I mean.” It was clear he wanted her to leave but she had spent all day working up the courage to come down to the medical bay, she wasn't about to leave now. 

 

“Our…” she caught herself and cleared her throat awkwardly. “ _ Your _ crew never seems to visit you. They don't even peek in to check and make sure you haven't died. Why is that?”

 

“They respect me.” He responded bluntly. 

 

“And you think I don't?” 

 

“No. I do not.”

 

She wasn't sure whether or not he was wrong but she couldn't help but feel a little wounded by his words. 

 

“But, ” he grunted as he turned his head to face her, his bangs falling into his dark, flat eyes, “you didn’t come to talk about the crew.” It wasn't a question, a simple fact that they both understood. She set the plate on the counter behind her and pushed it away from the edge. 

 

“No, I...didn’t.” 

 

He waited for a moment, waiting for her to respond. But she was lost in her thoughts as she stared at him. He looked tired, grey webs crawling under the skin of his pale face. 

 

Slowly, he curled into the blanket and turned away from her again, exposing his bare back. She could still see the dark lines of his veins pulsing under the bramble of scars. If it hadn't been for their deep color she may have missed them. 

 

Bulma fought the urge to reach out and rub his back soothingly, just as her mother had done for her so many times when she had been ill. Clasping her hands in her lap, she let the awkward silence hang between them, thinking he may have fallen asleep. He was so still, his breathing so shallow. Then he spoke. 

 

“Well?” 

 

“Vegeta.” he was silent. She wasn't quite sure if it was an invitation to precede so she did so very cautiously. “Frieza doesn't  _ want _ the rest of the saiyans. From everything I can gather, which isn't easy because no one will tell me a damned thing, he wants the saiyans dead and he doesn't care how...e-except you. He wants you alive. Why is that?”

 

He sighed knowingly, he must have seen this conversation coming for quite some time. Then he cleared his dry throat and mumbled. 

 

“It's a very long story, Soesa.”

 

“That's what everyone keeps telling me. I need  _ answers _ Vegeta.  _ Real _ answers. Our lives are in danger and I may be able to help but I can't if I don't know what we are up against.” she crossed her arms defiantly and leaned back on her stool.

 

He sighed and turned to face her. She almost felt bad about pestering him. He looked so weak and exhausted. He ran his sharp canines over his dry, cracked lips and let his eyes lazily wander to meet hers. Something about the emptiness in his eyes frightened her. 

 

“Very well. If you want to know so badly I will tell you.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

AN: Beta-read by the lovely GayEpidemic. Thanks dear! Enjoy my sweet peaches.   


  
  
  



	14. The Rebel Crew

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE: THE REBEL CREW**

* * *

_ The men we held as brothers true _

_ Have turned into a rebel crew _

_ Now tyrants seek to run them thro’ _

  
  


* * *

* * *

 

Bulma wiped the tears away with the sleeve of Stoks’s shirt, which was bunched mercilessly into her balled fists. Choking on a sob, she looked down at the sleeping boy. It was all she could do to keep from crying again.

 

She wasn't sure how much time had passed since his tale had begun but he had since slipped into fitful rest once more. Some part of her foolishly hoped that telling his story to her would relieve some of the burdens he carried on his scarred shoulders. But from the looks of it, it had done nothing to ease his ache. His brows still furrowed, a sheen of sweat glistened on his pale skin as he moaned quietly.

 

She watched him for a time. She didn’t want to leave him, no one should be alone in a state like his. Bulma couldn’t decide if she wanted to stay to make him feel better or because it would make her feel better, as if something, no matter how insignificant it was, would make a difference for him. No. She finally understood the crew’s actions. They would’ve stayed, all of them, by his side every waking moment but he needed to be alone and they respected and loved him enough to give that to him. 

 

It took everything she had, but finally she stood, tucking the stool under the metal table. She looked out the door tentatively but no one was there, all was quiet. That was indication enough to her that it was probably the middle of the night. She leaned over and moved his bangs out of the way of his forehead and cautiously, tenderly kissed his forehead. Then she left, heading for the wall of the mess hall, leaving the plate of cold roots behind her. 

 

* * *

 

Bulma had conceded that she and the others had done everything they could. It was too late to begin work on the engine, besides she would need help moving the parts into place and it was nearly impossible to wake a sleeping saiyan. No, she would need to wait at least until after the first meal to get help from anyone. There was nothing left to do and her mind spun like a top. Bulma stood solemnly in front of the wall in the mess hall, her mother’s cross clenched tightly in her fist. Something drew her in to the wall of artifacts. She supposed it was the same thing that possessed her to run her fingers along the handle of the stock pot that stirred up the memories of Stoks. He had now been gone far longer than she had known him but it didn’t feel that way. Standing there alone in the stale night air she could almost smell the scent of salty sweat and smoke, almost see his gentle eyes. But it was more than that. Everytime she thought of him she saw him swallowed by the dark of night, the fear in his eyes as he pushed the scouter into her hand and screamed for her to run. She clasped at the medallion he had given her tightly in her hand, took a step back, and sighed. Forty-two lives reduced to forty-two trinkets and bobbles. Bulma couldn’t help but cringe and bite back tears. It sat like a lump in the back of her throat. It never left her and even when she slept she found the questions slithering into her mind. 

 

_ Was it all her fault? _

 

Carrying that weight was heavy. She could not imagine how it felt to carry the weight of the wall. 

 

The mixed light fixtures of the ship created a low hum that warmed her spine. It was sort of peaceful now that the crew was asleep. She felt hope begin to ignite in herself and quickly squashed it. She had no time for hopes and wishes. Stepping backwards without taking her eyes off the wall she plopped down on the bench and leaned sideways against the table. Her eyes wandered to the far left corner and began to count them all over again. 

 

Bulma found herself unable to sleep despite the numbing ache of exhaustion that weakened her muscles and burned her eyes. Every time she closed her heavy eyes she saw faces, empty and lifeless, that stared back into the face of the girl who had slaughtered them. 

 

She could never be the girl she had been, carefree and selfishly noble, her altruism had been crushed to tiny pieces and thrown into the wind when she had looked her own death in the face. She had gone round and round in circles justifying her actions, and they were justifiable. If she had not killed the purgers they would've killed her, possibly worse. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake the voice in her head that repeated the truth over and over again. 

 

She was just like them. 

 

She was a killer now. 

 

* * *

 

“ _ Soesa _ .” 

 

Bulma stirred to the frantic whispers of the familiar voice. 

 

“R-Rad? What time is it?” 

 

“I don’t know. Don’t matter none. I got somethin’ to show ya.” 

 

She lifted her head from where it rested on the knotted wood table and rubbed her sore neck. Pulling on her uniform coat she wrapped her arms around herself and groggily followed after the anxious saiyan. 

 

Many times she had paced through the hallways and crawled through the tunnels on sleepless nights. But now she found herself being led somewhere she had never been, to a level of the ship near the bow that she had never seen before. Raditz wound through the hallways at a near impossible pace and more than once she had to ask him to slow down so she didn’t lose him in the winding tunnels and dark hallways. 

 

Finally he stopped at a rusted door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. A thick layer of dust covered the floor and cobwebs draped from the doors and ceiling. 

 

“Raditz, not that this isn’t super cool and kinda creepy but what the hell are we doing here?”

 

He pushed the door open, eliciting a pained groan from the old metal. He held his hand out, waiting for her to walk inside. 

 

Bulma stepped tentatively inside the small room. It was bathed in yellow light, pitted walls blinked with lights and the familiar hum of electronics filled the back of her ears. The angled ceiling was low, almost too low for Raditz to stand up straight.

 

“Soesa...meet Failele*.”

 

She couldn’t help herself, letting out a quiet  _ woah _ as she turned around in the small room, staring at the mainframe computer that ran the ship. Just like the engine, it had been cobbled together from various parts of alien technology. It was quite the marvel. 

 

“So this is the master computer?” 

 

“Yep, as you can see no one’s been up here in a long time.” Raditz walked forward and set a hand on her shoulder. “ _ Soesa, _ I need your help.” 

 

He held out a small thumb drive to her.  “I stole this from the ship boneyard but I don’t know how to get the data off it. I need your help.” 

 

Bulma smiled, genuinely excited for the first time in a long time. 

 

She sat down in the chair at the console in the center of the room and slid the drive into the reader. Raditz chewed nervously on his thumbnail as Bulma worked rapidly and silently. After about ten minutes she shouted. 

 

“Yes!” 

Raditz nearly jumped out his own skin. 

 

“What? What’d ya find?” 

 

“Well, nothing yet, but I did crack the encryption code and I’m in to the drive now. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” her excited tone waned as she read the text rapidly. “Looks like troop movements...deployment orders...shipment requests...SOPs. Sorry Rad, it was a good idea bu-” she cut herself off as she read, leaning in closer to the small screen, her mouth falling open. “Oh ho ho….oh ho ho ho my god, Rad this...this changes everything…” she whispered in awe.

 

* * *

 

The smoke wafting through the dusty air was surprisingly refreshing after so many days of being either inside a ship or a modified escape pod. It felt good to Bulma to be outside again, and the darkness didn’t bother her as much as it had when she first arrived. She didn’t seem to mind it none at all. The large fire sent flickering shadows and lights that played across the faces of the saiyans who all sat in their familiar places, causing their various expressions to seemingly stick into her mind. They seemed to all be feeling better as well. In fact, Bulma couldn’t remember them all being this happy since before Stoks had died. Even Vegeta seemed in unusually high spirits, though he clearly hadn’t yet fully recovered. Nappa occasionally glanced back at him, nervously, never saying anything but watching his captain carefully anytime he spoke or moved.

 

Bulma wanted to remember this moment. She was bursting with excitement just thinking about the information gleaned from the disks but that could wait until the fono that had been called for the next night. For now she was just happy bein’ happy. Simple things were everything and the simple smell of smoke, the simple sound of Bardock singing and Nappa’s horrendous harmonies, the simple smile on Vegeta’s face as he looked out on his crew, still pale from the poison, but content. There was no telling what could happen moments or days from now so instead she clung to this very moment. Letting it be enough for her.

 

Bardock and Nappa finished their haunting tune and Nappa howled, drumming loudly on the stump he sat upon. They all laughed and Bardock pulled a cigarette from his tin with his teeth, stopped for a moment and dropped it back in, shaking the tin until the cigarette fell into place. 

 

“Now Bardock, I never seen you turn down a cigarette. Not with the exception of  _ once _ and we all know how that turned out. Just ask Tschev over here.” Bulma teased as the laughter and guffaws erupted around the campfire. She raised an eyebrow playfully. He laughed hoarsely and scratched the scarred side of his face. 

 

“Last one  _ Soesa _ . Gonna save it, once we finally get off this shitheap, you and I can share it.” 

 

“In that case everyone best steer clear of Bardock til we take off.” Raditz snorted bitterly under his breath.

 

“What was that, Rad?” Bardock’s voice dark and threatening. It reminded Bulma of when they had first arrived home three days ago. Reminded her of the only time that Bardock had ever truly frightened her.

 

“Oh nothing,  _ father. _ ” 

 

“Good. For a moment there I thought you was thinkin’ you had room to talk about nothin’.” 

 

If Raditz had any sense at all he’d keep his mouth shut.

 

“Oh, you didn’t hear me then? Hearin’ musta gone with that half yer brain Frieza blew off the top yer head.” The campfire went silent. Raditz cleared his throat sarcastically and spoke loud and clear. “I said ain’t no one wanna be around you when you haven’t had a bone.” 

 

Bardock stared silently on at his son across the campfire and stood without a sound.  

 

“Careful, you two, I may not be in top-form, but I could still lick you both with both arms behind my back.” Vegeta warned playfully.   
  
“Truth be told, cap’n,” Tschev offered, “Much as I was pleased as anyone to see ole Rad get what was due for his penance, y’oughta know he  _ did _ save yer life.”   
  
Vegeta’s eyebrows raised in both curiosity as well as to dare her to continue. “Is that so, sawbone. S’not usual of you to share accolades. Do tell?”   
  
“That poison what Cui shot you full of - ‘twasn’t nothing to sneeze at. Raditz actually burned the  majority of it outta yer wounds with ki ‘fore you even arrived. You’d’a been pushin up daisies if it weren’t fer that.”   
  
“Mmm.” Was all Vegeta could say.   
  
Bardock was having none of it. “You don’t thank a man for fixing what he done broke in the first place.” he nearly yelled. “Fact o’ matter is, Vegeta nearly died and it’s Rad’s fault in the first place.  _ Soesa _ nearly died and it’s his fault. We don’t got a shot in hell without them two, he shoulda known better.”   
  
“Bard-” Raditz started.   
  
“No! Just shut yer hole already.” Bardock shot up to his feet and stomped over to where Raditz sat, screaming in his face. “You’ve had more chances than anyone deserves and you can’t obey the  _ simplest  _ orders. I swear, you’re barely useful fer eatin’ fightin’ lead. You nearly killed as many of us as you have purgers. You endanger any of us one more time and I’ll end you myself!”   
  
Bulma’s eyes were wide with shock at the sudden shift in the mood of the campfire. All the other saiyans were silent as Bardock laid into Raditz. She watched Lato lean in towards Vegeta. “Sir, don’t you think you should put a stop to this? Bardock is going too far. You know as well as everyone here you let yourself get shot...”   
  
“Tsk. Hush. Remember your place.” he spoke louder, addressing everyone at the campfire. “It doesn’t matter - Raditz ought to be able to stand up for himself - whether right or wrong, he should have the pride to defend his decisions. A saiyan  _ is _ his pride. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

 

“You should know better. Raditz ain’t got no pride. Even Stoks’s more of a saiyan than he’ll ever be.” Bardock hissed venomously.

 

Raditz shot up to his feet, standing inches from his father. Barock wasn’t a small man, but Raditz was at least a head taller than him. Out of the crew, only Nappa was larger than he was. His face was contorted into an expression of pure rage as only a saiyan could.   
  
“Go ahead,  _ son. _ Do it.” Bardock said, defiantly looking up at Raditz.   
  
Raditz’s whole body was taught, his muscles twitching against each other as the others looked on, waiting for the inevitable moment when the tension would break.

 

After the mere moments that felt like eternity, Raditz finally threw his hands in the air, roaring with frustration before stomping off into the ship.

  
“Puh. Coward.” Bardock said, turning and sitting down.   
  
“You’re wrong.” Lato said.   
  
Once more, Bardock froze. “Excuse me.” he said, before slowly looking up.   
  
“Raditz isn’t afraid of you. It doesn’t even matter if he thinks he could beat you or not. He  _ respects _ you too much to fight you. He grew up hearing legends about how you stood up to Frieza. He’d cross fists with any other saiyan, Vegeta included, before he fought back against you. His pride in his people outstrips his pride in himself. That’s not a weakness - he works harder than any of us. Any commander would be so lucky as to have someone like Raditz, and here you all don’t know how strong he could be if you’d stop convincing him he’s worthless. Shame on you all.” She stood to leave.   
  
Bardock sneered at her. Standing once more, he moved to block her.   
  
“I promise you won’t find me as fun to play with as Tschev.” She threatened.

  
He turned to let her go to the ship.   
  
“Not worth it anyway.” He said, sitting back down and flipping his tin of cigarettes open before angrily flipping it closed again.

 

* * *

Bulma stood in front of the door, bolstering her courage. How hard was it to just lift up her hand and knock. It shouldn’t be but since she had told Bardock of her plan, he had warned her to be cautious. Vegeta did not like to be disturbed by anyone for anything. None of the crew knew what his room was like or what he did in there when he wasn’t away training. No one had ever seen inside.

 

She reminded herself that he wouldn’t kill her, he needed her to fix the ship. So she was safe, what was the worst that could happen. Before she chickened out again she knocked rapidly on the door and then clasped her hands behind her back, waiting for a response. 

 

“Leai.*” she heard him grumble loudly from the other side of the door. 

 

“But...you don’t even know what I’m going to ask. You didn’t even know it was  _ me _ .” She shouted impetuously. 

 

Vegeta was making no move to open the door and Bulma was making no move to leave. 

 

“I want you to teach me how to fight.” the words stumbled from her mouth before she lost her confidence...or her temper. 

 

He opened the door, just enough for her to see the curious look on his face. He blinked at her slowly and without a word closed the door in her face. Before her brain could compute what happened her temper had caught up with her and as she lifted her hand to turn the nob of the door Nappa’s voice boomed from down the hall. 

 

“So’s ya wanna learn how to fight, eh?” he stuck his hands on his hips and laughed, slapping her on the back and knocking the wind from her lungs. 

 

“Imma learn you how to fight real good like  _ Soesa _ .” Nappa chuckled, beaming with excitement. 

 

* * *

There was a gentle, rhythmic knock at the door.

 

Raditz pulled his head from where it was buried deep between his knees as he nursed his swollen eye with a wet cloth. He had been running his fingers over his swollen ribs.

 

“Kaoga ese*!” 

 

But no answer came. Instead, the door clicked and screeched as it scraped open and the items that had been tossed about the room in a fit of anger were pushed out of the way. 

 

“Ga ou faiaku kaoga ese*!” Raditz yelled as he threw the cloth at the intruder. Never bothering to look up. It didn't much matter anyway. He didn't want to see anyone right now. 

 

Lato caught the cloth with ease and unwadded it, folding it carefully in fourths as she stepped around the junk strewn about the floor, making her way closer to Raditz. 

 

She sat cautiously on the edge of the cot next to him and handed the cloth back. 

 

“Rad…”

 

“What?” He quipped before she could continue “come here to lam me too, eh? The great  _ general’s daughter _ Lato of...of house  _ Totopa _ here to show the mere smutchy, the ship’s fool, the error of his ways.” 

 

She blushed, her brows furrowing, contorting her stoic, porcelain features. He could see it on her face, his words had hurt her. 

 

“No...I-”

 

He wanted to stop but he couldn't seem to. The words spilling from his mouth. 

 

“God, you think you're so special. So much better than the rest of us, than  _ me _ . Well surprise here, o’ mighty one, everyone is!  _ Soesa _ could hand me my ass back ‘n forth six ways ta Sunday, I'm  _ sure _ . So it don't make you special none.”

 

She paused, struggling to keep her lungs from hyperventilating and her heart from racing out of control. She could keep calm in hundred-to-one odds, and now, alone with Raditz she was falling apart. She managed to sit next to him. At least she wasn’t crying...at least not yet.

 

“I understand.” she said meekly.   
  
“Oh, do you?!” he spat. “You understand what it’s like to live in the shadow of Bardock?!”   
  
“No. I understand what it’s like to be different.”   
  
“Psh.  _ Different _ . What do you know about me, mmm? You have no idea. You barely talk to any of the crew. You hardly even look at us. You always act like you’re better than us. Especially me.”   
  
She struggled to take a deep breath. It stuck in her throat. “Honestly, Rad, I’ve never wanted anything in my life more than to just be able to laugh and joke with the crew like you do. Like you all do. It comes so easily to you all. I’ve tried my whole life and never could. Everyone always thinks I feel  _ superior _ to others. I’ve never felt  _ better _ than anyone. Quite the opposite. I feel  _ less  _ than all of you. I’ve always known that...I don’t know. I just  _ think _ differently than pretty much every saiyan I’ve ever met. You mentioned my father… he… well. Let’s just say your argument earlier with Bardock was quite familiar to me.”    
  
Raditz listened in silence.   
  
“Raditz I know you feel different and less than the rest of us. I see it in your eyes and on your face all the time. You’ve never felt worthy to be in this crew, or to have survived this long when others have died.”   
  
“Hmph. Wouldn’t matter much if I had died. All I do is waste air.”   
  
Lato leaned onto Raditz, her head laying daintily on his biceps as her hands wrapped around his forearm. He froze, his eyes wide.

 

“Raditz you have something that no one in this crew has. Humility. Most saiyans find it incompatible with pride, but they just mistake pride for hubris. Humility can be a source of far more meaningful pride. Your problem is that your humility is getting confused with self deprecation. Some day, you’ll realize that. Some day, it’s going to just - _ click- _ for you and you’ll realize what you’re worth. Once the doubt is gone….well. I want to be there to see what power you unlock when that happens.”   
  
“Yeah right.”   
  
“I mean it. The fact you can use ki at all while your energy is so blocked is amazing. You just have to let go, get out of your own way.”   
  
“Whatever.”   
  
“Raditz.” Lato pulled slightly on his arm, looking up at him. “I know this is inappropriate. But I’d like to make an offer.”   
  
He turned his head to one side, one eyebrow raised. “...what?”   
  
“Let me train you. I know the  _ saiyan _ way would take that as an affront to pride, but, hear me out. What could it hurt? If I’m right, we could unlock a great deal of your potential. If I’m wrong, well, you get some good sparring practice. What do you say?”   
  
Raditz thought for a moment, before smiling. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess. When do we start?”   
  
“Tomorrow. Oh, and, by the way. I think this is yours.” She pulled aside her duster to expose her leg, revealing Raditz’s armband around her thigh.   
  
“What th-. Where did you get that?”   
  
“I swiped it from the  _ Soesa _ .” Lato laughed. “Can I keep it?” she asked playfully.   
  
“Hm. I’d like it back, actually.”   
  
“Then come and take it…” she said, biting her lip slyly.

 

* * *

 

The  _ fono _ room was empty save for Bulma who sat cross-legged at the far end of the rug. She was sure they had said the  _ fono  _ would be held at this time. Just as she was weighing her options Bardock leaned on the door, opening it and staring down at her, chewing on the end of a strand of wheat. 

 

“Come  _ Soesa. _ They’re waitin’ at the fire.” 

 

“Oh.” without another word Bulma padded carefully across the ancient rug to the doorway where she slid on her boots. 

 

She followed Bardock outside to the campfire where the rest of the saiyans sat. 

 

“I thought we were gonna have a fono….” Bulma was saying as Bardock led her outside. The others were all out by the fire, waiting for her.   
  
“Sorry,  _ Soesa _ .” Nappa said. “Only  _ Saiyans _ can call fonos.” He was sitting cross-legged to Vegeta’s right. Bardock sat down on Vegeta’s left. Lato sat in front of Vegeta with a large wooden bowl in front of her, Tschev and Raditz on opposite sides.   
  
“Come on, kid.” Bardock said, gesturing Lato and the bowl.   
  
Bulma slowly walked forward and sat down at the bowl across from Lato.   
  
What happened next was a blur. Vegeta spoke. Nappa spoke. Bardock spoke. They were all using the strange oratorical dialect of saiyan that Lato and Vegeta used at Stoks’s funeral. Strangely, Lato didn’t speak at this one, but she did seem to be mixing a strange liquid in the bowl as they went.

 

Eventually, Vegeta rose, and walked over to Bulma. He walked around behind her and placed his hands on her head. He spoke again in the strange metaphorical way of speaking. She picked up enough to know that he was addressing her, but not calling her by her name, or by ‘ _ Soesa’ _ . He went and sat back down.   
  
“I present to you now, Fetufuatarakoolefa’amoemoeileuliulipato’i*, the saiyan.”   
  
Then came the speeches.

 

After seemingly everyone got a chance to say something, with varying degrees of proficiency with the oratorical dialect, Nappa started calling out something about ‘cups’, and Raditz shot up and dipped a small dish into the bowl and offered it to Bulma. Everyone stared at her expectantly.   
  
“Uhhh...kay” she said, barely managing a whisper she was so in shock at everything. She took a gulp of the liquid, which looked like murky brown water. She almost spat it out, but, figuring that’d probably be considered rude, managed to swallow it. It was among the most bitter things she’d ever tasted. She opened her eyes and saw Raditz still standing there, his hand outstretched. “Oh, here.” She said, handing the cup back to him. As she did so she realized a slight numbness starting to spread through her stomach and into her extremities. She wondered if she’d just been poisoned….   
  
Nappa continued to call out something about cups, Bulma catching the Saiyans various names and Raditz offered a cup of the liquid to each saiyan in turn, from Vegeta, to Nappa, and on down until Raditz himself got a drink.

 

“Alright, Fetu, you have called this  _ fono _ .” Vegeta stated matter-of-factly. 

 

“I…” she was so incredibly confused she couldn’t find the words. “I...yes. I am just a little confused though.” 

 

“Don’t worry none Caps. I got this.” Nappa slapped Vegeta on the back. “Well ya sees we got together and said  _ ‘Soesa here is real good like, even like a real saiyan almost, done saved the cap, done killed Cui, done killed some purgers…. _ ’ well ya see saiyans we do lotsa killing.” 

 

“Yes, I noticed.” Bulma nodded.

 

“Yeah, well in short, ya one of us now.” 

 

Bulma was so incredibly surprised and moved she wasn’t sure what to say. “I...uh...thank you.” 

 

“Nah. Don’t thank me none it was the cap’s idea in the first place, Fetufuatarakoolefa’amoemoeileuliulipato’i 

 

“So...that’s my new name, huh?” 

 

“Yeah. Cap gave it to ya, he’s like your saiyan ma. Almost.” Vegeta slowly hid his face in his hands, in annoyance or embarrassment Bulma couldn’t quite tell. Nappa looked like he was actually going to cry as he began to sniffle and stared at Bulma with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“I...I like it. It’s a little long but it’s beautiful. Thank you.” 

 

“Oh that ain’t nothin’.” Tschev snorted. “Nappa here? His name is Napacapisileulupo’oomaletelepeiova’atausilipe’aatoalonatino*.”

 

Vegeta cleared his throat, almost awkwardly redirecting the subject to the  _ fono _ at hand. She could tell he was very uncomfortable.

 

“Alright Fetu*, you have called this fono.” 

 

“Yes. I have very good news.” 

 

“Ya fix the ship?” Nappa boomed, laughing uproariously at his own joke while everyone else rolled their eyes. 

 

“Not yet. It’s nearly there though.” Bulma smiled gently. “No. Raditz retrieved some data discs from the boneyard and we found some pretty amazing information.” 

 

She waited for them to respond and they waited for her to speak. She continued. 

 

“Have you ever heard of the saiyan god?” 

 

Vegeta’s tense posture relaxed as he scoffed dismissively. “Nothing more than a fairytale,  _ Soesa. _ ” 

 

“Wait. Just...hear me out. Frieza has tons of information regarding this, I just haven’t decoded all of it yet. From what I’ve gleaned so far there is some sort of ritual involved that leads to a transformation of extraordinary power.”

 

“It’s worthless. Nothing more than a children’s story.” he retorted bitterly. He was trying his best to hide it but she could tell he was disappointed.

 

“Children’s story or not it may be worth looking into. What’s the worst that could happen? Once I’m done decoding the data we can discuss it more but I thought it was worth at least looking into.” 

 

He calmed himself with a deep sigh and a nod. “What else did you find,  _ Soesa _ ?” 

 

“I’ve never told you why I set off in space, have  I?” 

 

“No I don’t believe you have.” 

 

“Have you ever heard of the dragon balls?” 

 

Vegeta shook his head subtly. 

 

“It is said that long ago an ancient power embedded magical artifacts in the core of seven planets. Now as far as the legend goes, it says if you are able to collect all seven you can summon a powerful, ancient dragon who will grant you one wish and-” 

 

Vegeta laughed bitterly at this, cutting her off. “We have no need for fairytales here,  _ Soesa. _ Frieza can keep his dragon’s balls.”

 

“Well tell me this,” she snapped. “Frieza’s records show that he has six of the seven dragon balls and is searching for the seventh currently. If there are no dragon balls then what does he have?” 

 

“I’m sure I don’t know  _ Soesa _ . But Frieza has always been one superstitious bastard. Some say he even consults a bone reader to make his decisions. Frieza can keep his saiyan god and his dragon’s balls as far as I’m concerned. Fairytales will not help us none.” 

  
  


Everyone went about their business dismissively only half listening to the conversation. Tschev was breaking a stick into tiny pieces and tossing them into the fire as Bardock chewed on the end of his wheat and Nappa sipped on his water loudly. Only Raditz and Vegeta listened with full attention to Bulma. She looked around at the distracted saiyans. 

 

“Frieza has a saiyan in captivity. According to the chip records that Frieza has kept he is known by the name of Kakarot or Prisoner 019C.” 

 

Bardock choked on the stem he was chewing on passively and Nappa spat water all over Raditz. Bulma couldn’t help but laugh, but she seemed to be the only one. Normally they would all have laughed at this but they were eerily silent. Bardock was standing now, lifting her from where she stood and clasping her hard on the shoulder. His eye looked desperately into hers. 

 

“Kid, say that name again.” 

 

Bulma was suddenly incredibly nervous and unsure of everything. “Ka-kakarot?” 

 

“Is he alive? Did they say if he was alive?” 

 

“Yes. Reports read that he is alive as of one week ago...wha-” 

 

She could see tears well up in his eye as he scanned her face disbelievingly. “ Fetu...that’s...that’s my son.” 

 

* * *

* * *

 

TRANSLATIONS: 

 

Failele - literally a nursing mother or mother to a very young baby. The name of the mainframe computer, a reference to the Alien movies.

Leai - No

Kaoga ese - a very rude and disrespectful way of telling someone to leave, essentially GTFO

Ga ou faiaku kaoga ese - I said get lost!

Fetu fua tarako o le fa’amoemoe i le uliulipato’i - (separated the name for ease of reading) Star dragon fruit, The hope in the pitch black night

Fetu - star

Napa capisi le ulupo’o ma le tele pei o va’atausili pe’a atoa lona tino - Nappa cabbage the bald and the great, like Va’atausili when his body was complete** 

 

**a reference to Samoan mythos  

 

* * *

 

AN:  We’re sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. We’ve had some family emergencies all week, and to top it off we’re dealing with a broken computer (toddlers… they wreak destruction, folks).  We hope you enjoy this chapter, we’re seeing the continuation of some long-since setup character development with various crew members, and *every* character will have more development to come. There is also plenty of action yet to come as well as our cast embarks on a mission to rescue the captive Kakarot.   
  
A note on names: Yes, Bulma’s saiyan name is *not* a vegetable reference. We settled for a fruit reference (dragon fruit), even though the abbreviated form of the full name (Fetu) simply means ‘star’. Forgive us, the plot requirements/symbolism overrode the necessity for naming conventions.   
  
A note on our fun with Nappa’s name. ‘Vaatausili’ references a Samoan myth wherein a small/weak child sleeps in a magical cave, and in the morning had grown into a giant. To this day, the proverbial expression “The body of Vaatausili is complete” is a metaphorical way of expressing that preparations are made/ready to embark on an upcoming journey/voyage/trip/life change/whatever. In this case, just a reference to how huge Nappa is.


	15. All Along the Watchtower

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER**

 

_ “There must be some way out of here," _

_ Said the joker to the thief. _

 

* * *

 

The prisoner scrambled away from the door and as far into the corner as he could, flattening his thin, gaunt frame into the shadows. His shoulders fell as he saw the figure approach from the north end of the corridor. 

 

It was just a couple of guards. 

 

_ Guards _ . 

 

He ran to the bars, tumbling to a halt before he ran right into them. He nearly toppled over, his weak knees buckling from underneath him. The electricity that pulsed through the bars hummed in the back of his jaw. 

 

“Hey! Hey, you!” He shouted, waving frantically at the guards. 

 

One of the guards stopped just past his cell spitting angrily on the ground. “What you want,  _ monkey _ ?” 

 

“Where is the other prisoner? The guy who was in here with me? He’s been gone for two days now. Where is he?” He tried to sound casual but his mounting desperation was palpable. They ignored him as they began to walk off. “His...wait! Wait, wait, wait! His number is 019A...please…his name is-”

 

One of the guards scoffed with disgust and shook his head, and with that they carried on down the cellblock and out the door.

 

“Wait...come back!” but his voice echoed down the empty hallway eliciting threats and groans from the other prisoners.

 

He let his head hit the back of the wall as he slid his exhausted, aching body down the wall and into the corner of the cell, he let the silent tears fall. He was so tired, so hungry, but all he could think about was prisoner 019A. 

 

Thoughts of his cellmate where quickly banished by the sounds of sudden and rapid gunfire. 

 

* * *

 

**48 HOURS EARLIER**

 

* * *

 

Nappa took another ridiculously large bite from the leg of whatever animal it was that he had been eating, tearing at the flesh. The evening meal had ended over two hours ago, and yet they were still here. Partly because Nappa could apparently eat forever, but mostly because Bulma was forcing him to play match after match of  _ Fa’amailei*.  _ It was a saiyan board game that was kind of like chess and Chinese checkers combined.   
  
“Y’know, Fetu. After bringing back all this food, ‘specially the meat, you could not fix the engine and I’d be okay with that. This really smacks the spot.”

  
Raditz sat next to Bulma as she tapped her fingers against the old wooden table in frustration. She reached for a piece. 

 

“Uh-uh” Nappa warned, pointing a greasy finger at one of his own.  
  
_Shit_! She thought. _How is he doing this!?_ _Come on Bulma, think!_ She stared at the board, taking it piece by piece. _Ah, here we go!_  
  
“Nope!” Nappa said immediately once she had moved, taking no time in moving a piece of his own.  
  
Bulma was confused, she saw absolutely no connection between the move Nappa just made and the obviously laid out strategy of his pieces. In fact, his move had made his position weaker. Bulma was fine with that. After five games, he was past-due for a humbling takedown. She couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“Alright, there it was, Nappa. I knew you’d make a mistake sooner or later, and there. It. Was.” Bulma made her move, taking one of Nappa’s pieces from the board. She sat back, folding her arms across her chest with a smug grin.  
  
“But...wha-!?” Nappa yelled. “Wait… was that there!? I thought it was-” His frustration was almost too sweet. “How in the world could I miss such- nah, I’m just kiddin’. Good move, Fetu, but not good enough. Here you go.” He moved a piece on the board. It opened up two of his other pieces to attack Bulma’s General piece simultaneously. There was no way she could save it. Game over.  
  
“Ugh!” Bulma groaned. “I’ll have you know I’m rated over _two thousand_ in chess back on Earth. Most people have to study it seriously for years and years to get that good. This game isn’t that different, but if you gave me another week, I’m sure I could mop the floor with you, Nappa.”  
  
“Uh-huh. Heard that before, Fetu.” Nappa reached his giant hand across the table and patted her on the head sweetly. “Don’t be sour, now. I ain’t lost a game in years. And before you accuse me of bein’ some mossy headed dunderblusser, all holed up in some dark room for hours a day, readin’ books and runnin’ drills ‘n all whatnot, save it. Heard them accusatorians too. I’m just the best. Always was. Simple as simple as spit.”  
  
Bulma looked over at Raditz, pouting. “Rad, he’s being mean.”  
  


All he could do was shrug and nod. “Don’t know what to tell ya. None of us can beat him either.”   
  
“Well, it does make sense that the most brilliant military strategist the Saiyan race had to offer would be the best at a game of military strategy, no?” Lato said from where she sat cross-legged in the corner.   
  
“Wait,” Bulma, said. “We are talking about  _ Nappa _ , right?”   
  
“Hey now, Fetu. No need to get personable about it. I’ll have you know I was High General over the whole of the Saiyan military.”   
  
Again Bulma looked to the others for confirmation. Both Raditz and Lato simply nodded. Looking back at Nappa, Bulma couldn’t help but wonder what in the world happened between then and now. She had a hard time imagining Nappa as a general.   
  
“Just one too many bullets to the head!” Nappa said, as if reading her mind, playfully knocking a fist against his bald scalp, laughing uproariously. 

 

“Alright boys; Fetu.” Lato started, as she stood up. “It’s late. We should probably get some sleep.”   
  
“Eh, yer not wrong.” Nappa said. “That ‘n Bardock ‘n I still got some plans to fix up fer librarating his kid.”   
  
“You mean, ‘liberating’?” Raditz asked.   
  
“When are y’all are gonna realize I’m a lost cause and let me be? Geez.” Nappa laughed as he sauntered out of the mess hall.

 

* * *

 

Prisoner 019C pulled the shreds of his shirt delicately from his body, over his head, and tossed them on the ground. Sliding down the wall, he pressed the raw lash marks of his back against the cold metal. The infected, open skin burned at the touch, but the cold gave him some relief.

 

He had never been one to dwell on the negative, some had even found him eerily positive, but even  _ he _ could see little to no hope of escape and survival. He swallowed the thoughts of his cellmate that rose like bile in his throat, but questions kept repeating over and over again in his mind. 

 

_ What if he never comes back?  _

 

_ What if I die here? What if I don’t? _

 

_ What if I am completely and utterly alone? _

 

* * *

 

“Should be easy enough.” Vegeta drummed his fingers on the plans that Nappa and Bardock had drafted. “One man in, two out.” and with that he snatched up the stack of papers and tossed them in his bag under the table. 

 

“That just leaves them crew assignations.” Nappa mused thoughtfully. 

 

“You mea-”  Lato stopped herself, letting her voice trail off and smiling at Nappa. 

 

“Simple. Bardock ‘n Tschev you’re with me.” Something about Vegeta’s voice told Bulma that they were going sooner rather than later. Her suspicions were confirmed when he tied his boots tighter and hooked his foot in the strap of his bag, tossing it from under the table into the small walkway.

 

“Cap-” Raditz protested angrily.

 

“Ain’t no two ways about it.” Vegeta said curtly as he tucked his knife into his boot and slung his bag over his chest. “This kid’s been with Frieza who knows how long, we’re gonna need a saw, ‘n Bardock’s coming on account of Kakarot  _ bein’ _ his kid.

 

“But-” Raditz started and stopped himself. He was treadin’ on thin ice, fixin’ to fight with the cap.

 

“There will be plenty o’ time for you to play house with your new baby brother when we return. Assumin’ he’s still alive.” 

 

The tension in the room was palpable. Raditz conceded, stepping aside and letting the captain pass. 

 

“Fine by me.” Nappa shouted, laughing and slapping the first person to pass on the back, “Them headquarters are on Zweitzel. Well, used to be known as Zweitzel before we purged it to hell and back an’ killed all them Malori, now it’s Frieza Base 6883.” He trailed off, trying to remember what he had been talking about in the first place. “Oh right.” he whispered to himself. “Them headquarters on Zweitzel. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out there! Be sure ta bring yer jackets and maybe some them fuzzy caterpillars we found out off that ridge to put…” Nappa was laughing at his own joke before he could even finish it. “Put on yer brows and lashes so they don’t freeze off. Wouldn’t wanna come back lookin’ none like me!” He boomed with laughter, leaning back, hands on his hips. The others smiled. 

 

_ Oh, Nappa _ . 

 

Vegeta shook his head as he chuckled to himself. He stopped abruptly as he stared into the fiery eyes of the girl who blocked his path to the exit, jacket and bag in hand. “I’m going with you.” 

 

Vegeta raised his eyebrows threateningly, a hint of surprise and amusement on his face. 

 

“Last time  _ you  _ piloted,” Bulma poked him in the chest for emphasis “you crashed my pod. We are  _ not  _ doing  _ that  _ again. I have enough to fix ‘round here without you fixin’ to break another ship o’ mine or you for that matter. No dyin’ on this here trip, y'hear me?” 

 

He pursed his lips in an unreadable expression, breaking eye contact with the fiery girl. He muttered angrily. 

 

“Fine.” 

 

He whipped around, irritated. “Any other objections to my crew designations? Speak yer piece or bite yer bullets.” 

 

They all responded with a silent affirmation. 

 

“Good. Now get ‘er done.” He spat before walking out the door of the ship and trudging towards the pod. 

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was because the banter between Tschev and Bardock was so entertaining it made Bulma wish she had a bowl of popcorn, but this trip seemed to go by much smoother than the last mission. It was shorter, true, but even still the time seemed to fly faster than the pod itself.   
  
“Vegeta, we’re about to-” Bulma started to call out when she was cut off by the swoosh of the door opening from the back of the pod.   
  
“We ought to be arriving about now.” Vegeta stated matter-of-factly.   
  
“Uh, yeah. Thanks for the update. Good to have you along to let me know since even with all these  _ brilliantly _ designed instruments and the viewscreen  _ literally showing the planet in front of us, _ I would have never been able to tell.” Bulma said sarcastically.   
  
It said something about how comfortable she was getting that her sass was returning to pre-capture levels. It said something more that Vegeta didn’t kill her for it.    
  
“Anyway,” Bulma continued. “It looks like the bulk of their personnel are some ways away from the main compound. I’m picking up small arms fire and ordinance.”   
  
“Mmm. Military exercises. This is perfect.” He responded. “Do we have a trajectory to land without being picked up on sensors?” he asked.   
  
“I’m not sure…” Bulma started, “But I’d say, probably not. We’re safe for now, hiding behind one of the natural moons, but they have a pretty solid network of orbital satellites. I’d be shocked if anything larger than 2 meters could get through undetected. Maybe we could time an EM pulse with a solar flare to knock out part of the grid to…” Bulma trailed off as she realized Vegeta had stopped listening some time before.    
  
“Just what do you think you’re…. Oh no you don’t,  _ sir! _ ” Bulma protested when she saw Vegeta pulling on a zero-pressure suit.   
  
Vegeta let out an exasperated sigh. “I did not ask, nor do I need your permission. I require only your obedience.”   
  
“Vegeta this. Is. STUPID.” Bulma started yelling.   
  
“What’s all tha’ hollerin’ ‘bout?” Tschev emerged from the back of the pod with a yawn.   
  
“Oh, nothing.” Bulma responded, again with sardonicism dripping from every word. “Just our captain out to commit suicide again!”   
  
“Wha-?” Tschev started.   
  
“Silence!” Vegeta snapped. “This mission requires stealth. We cannot approach the planet in the pod, so I  must make a jump. It’s that simple.”   
  
“Vegeta, the suit is heat-shielded, but this is atmospheric entry we’re talking about! You’ll be dust before you hit the surface!”   
  
“Ugh, shush,  _ Soesa _ , Cap’ll be fine.” Tschev said.   
  
“She’s right, Fetu.” A calmer Bardock interrupted, the last member of the team finally joining the discussion. “Don’t forget we can control ki. ‘Nother thing we can do with it is brace ourselves from impacts or pressures, protect ourselves ‘n the like. Cap’ll be fine. Just takes a bit o’ focus s’all.”   
  
“You can….do that?” Bulma was shocked. She looked at Vegeta.   
  
“Tzch.” Came the response as he clipped on his mask to the neck of the zero-pressure suit.   
  
“Oh.” Bulma’s sass was gone. She didn’t like being so completely wrong. So put in her place. “Well that’s pretty neat.” she said meekly. 

 

* * *

 

“And that’s how you do a sweep of the cells. Pretty simple stuff.” The guard said with as much lackluster as he could. He had been stuck with more than one trainee in his time but this one was was particularly dense. Asking question after question to clarify the simplest things. “Make sense, ensign?” 

 

“Of course, sir. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir.” The ensign muttered nervously. 

 

“Speak up, boy!” The guard barked at the young soldier. 

 

The ensign opened his mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by the lieutenant, who held up his hand and looked around suspiciously. 

 

“You hear that kid?” the older soldier whispered harshly.

 

The ensign turned his ears and listened carefully for anything but he heard nothing. The hallway was completely silent. Only the hum of the lights could be heard. He shook his head at his trainer, who signaled for him to pull out his phase gun. 

 

Quickly and silently they did a sweep of the corridor. Satisfied that the corridor was empty they holstered their weapons.

 

“I coulda sworn I heard something.” The captain muttered. “This place is making me lose my mind.” he shook his head. 

 

Neither of them saw, nor heard the saiyan who clung silently to the ceiling directly above their heads. A red, tattered cloth over his mouth, his hair, for once, out of his eyes as it hung away from his face, his dark eyes dancing with excitement. 

 

_ Show time. _

 

* * *

 

Raditz tried to focus on the words coming out of Lato’s mouth but it was all he could do to keep from staring at her. He watched her delicate poised features as she spoke to him about...wait...what  _ was  _ she speaking to him about? 

 

He struggled to keep up and to hide the fact that he had not been paying attention in the first place.

 

“-to start with relaxing your body. Most immediately, it’ll help you move faster and more efficiently. More importantly, it’ll lead to relaxing your mind, which will be more important later on.” Lato started, her soothing voice was almost, itself, enough for Raditz to let go.

 

He sat cross-legged across from her on the small saiyan rug she kept, the hanging lights swaying gently in the icy stream of air that blew from the vent in the ceiling.   
  
“I...look, I don’t understand how this is going to-” Raditz started.   
  
“Shhhh.” Lato whispered, eyes closed, face a mask of perfect porcelain.   
  
“I thought you said something about sparring.”   
  
“Shhhh.” she repeated just as calmly as before, her hands resting gently on her knees.   
  
“Hmph.” Raditz sighed in frustration. He needed to get stronger and better and he needed it like...yesterday.   
  
“Just try to  _ feel  _ your whole body and nothing else. If you try to not think anything, you’ll just end up thinking more. So if a thought comes into your head, just let it go as easily as it came.”   
  
“Uh...alright.”   
  
“Start with your feet. The bottoms of them. Then move your awareness up, bit by bit, bone by bone, muscle by muscle, until you feel your whole foot. Your whole leg. Both legs. Then do the same with your hands and arms. Try to get a sense for the sensations of your whole body at once. Just pay attention to that feeling.”   
  
“So…I can feel my body. What next?”   
  
“Shhhh. No you can’t. You’re not understanding. Feel the sensation of every square centimeter across all of your skin. Then feel every bit of yourself inside and out. Try and do all that, all at once. What is the sensation in the small of your back? Or behind your ears? Or within your left calf muscle? You have to feel all of it. Become aware of all of it. All at once. It’s not easy, especially when you’re thinking so  _ loudly _ . Now focus.”

 

* * *

“Listen. If I have to say this one more time kid I’m going to blast a hole through that thick skull o’ yours and blame it on the prisoners.” The guard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

 

_ Why me? Why is it always me? _ He thought, staring at the blank face of the ensign that seemed to stare through him, fear in his eyes. 

 

“Looks like I’m finally getting through to you.” he crossed his arms smugly. 

 

The younger guard stared on through his mentor, a weak squeal barely escaping the back of his open mouth.

 

“What's wrong kid? Ya look like ya never seen a saiyan before?” A young, hoarse voice called from behind the guard.

 

The ensign stood frozen as the guard pivoted on his heels, pulling his phase rifle from its holster and training it at the intruder with both hands. 

 

“Hands in the air!” He screamed at the intruder, who strode casually forward, his tail whisking back and forth across the ground in idle amusement. The strange boy slowly lifted his arms, chuckling darkly as he got closer and closer to the guards. “Call for back up!” the guard shouted at the young soldier behind him. 

 

He felt a  _ whoosh _ of air as something flew past his cheek, then he heard the body fall. To his horror he turned around to see the young ensign collapse on the floor, a large knife protruding from between his eyes. 

 

The guard turned around to find the saiyan boy directly in front of him, not more than a hair’s breadth away.

 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Vegeta grinned picking at his nails idly with a knife.

 

* * *

 

Twenty-six Frieza Force soldiers wasn’t a bad start to a day. Nothing to scoff at for sure but Vegeta needed to focus on the task at hand if he was going to get out of this alive and with Kakarot in hand. He had spent most of his time avoiding confrontation with anyone, scaling across the ceiling or slinking through the shadows, but the prison was heavily fortified and located at the very bottom of the complex. 

 

It was time to pick up the pace. 

 

* * *

 

“So what did you tell her?” 

 

“I told her she needed to respect me more.” 

 

“Shit. Are you  _ serious? _ You did not, you spineless bastard.” 

 

“Well...I thought about it.” 

 

“Pussy.” the second guard scoffed.

 

“Hey! Hey, you!” a prisoner shouted from his cell, waving frantically at the guards. 

 

The first guard stopped just passed his cell spitting angrily on the ground. “What you want,  _ monkey _ ?” 

 

“Where is the other prisoner? The guy who was in here with me? He’s been gone for two days now. Where is he?” He tried to sound casual but his mounting desperation was palpable. The guard’s rolled their eyes and began to walk off. “His...wait! Wait, wait, wait! His number is 019A...please…his name is-”

 

The  second guard scoffed with disgust and one shook his head, carrying on down the cellblock and out the door.

 

They casually strolled through the hall, making their rounds and discussing personal matters, medical leave, the mundane and the ordinary, as ordinary as life could be when you worked against your will for an intergalactic tyrant. 

 

“Evenin’ gentlemen, I seem to have lost my way. I’m looking for cell block nineteen, know of it?” a proper voice called from the darkness. 

 

“That way and to the left. You’re almost there.” one of the guards pointed, chewing on a toothpick. 

 

“Thank you kindly, good sir.” the voice called and a gunshot flashed in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

The prisoner had fallen asleep, his thin legs crossed and pulled into his chest as he struggled to stay warm in the damp cold cell. 

 

He tossed and turned, moaning in his sleep as he dreamt of home, of his friends, of  _ food _ . Oh sweet, sweet food. 

 

He would’ve given up his right arm for a meal, not even a decent one, just a large one. 

 

“Hey.” 

  
“...huh?”

 

“Ala la’ia*!”    
  
“Wha-what?!...you’re not a guard...who are you?”   
  
“O A’u. Vesita! Fa’akope!*”   
  
“What in the world are you saying?”   
  
“Tzch. I’m Vegeta, Prince of Saiyans. Your prince. You’re Kakarot, are you not?”   
  
“Uh… I don’t know anyone named Kakarot. My name’s Goku.”   
  
“Go...ku.” The name was foreign to Vegeta and yet familiar somehow. This man was  _ obviously _ a saiyan although tailless, and  _ obviously _ Bardock’s son, he was his spitting image. “You’ve clearly forgotten where you came from, but your real name is Kakarot. I’m here to rescue you and take you to the last of your people.”   
  
“Oh!” Goku said, jumping to his feet, his wounds and exhaustion suddenly meaningless. “You must have rescued Krillin then! Where is he? Who else did you save from the ship! Chichi? Bulma?”   
  
“Uh…No.” Vegeta said, instantly understanding what was going on. “Not those people.  _ Your _ people. The Saiyans. The ones on your ship are all dead. All except for the one you call Bulma. She is with us. Now come, we need to leave. Now.”   
  
Goku’s face fell. “Bul-...wait...dead?” He couldn’t believe it. “No, they can’t be ALL dead...Krillin was here, with me! I saw him just two days ago! Where is he!?”   
  
“I have no idea where this  _ Kuririni  _ is, but if you haven’t seen him in days, he’s most certainly not coming back, now come on!”   
  
“I won’t leave without him! Where would they have taken h-” Goku had started to push past Vegeta when a quick blow to the back of the neck dropped him.   
  
“And I won’t leave without you, Kakarot. Your father has waited a long time to meet you.” He knelt down to hoist Kakarot onto his shoulders, groaning.  _ Well, this is going to be interesting. _ He thought, wondering how sneaky he could be lugging around a man-sized sack of carrots on his back.

  
  


* * *

 

“Shh.” Bardock hissed, cutting off Tschev mid-sentence and effectively ending their petty argument. Bulma was surprised by her reaction, Tschev was, in her opinion, slightly insane and normally would’ve pounced or bitten or screamed at being interrupted. But she didn’t say a word. Instead she pricked her ears and tilted her head as she and Bardock listened to the repeating drone playing through the pod’s PA system.  

 

Bulma tried to stay as silent as possible, barely breathing as she waited for an explanation for what this intercepted signal meant.

 

Without a word they quickly gathered up their supplies and headed for the airlock. 

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Where do you two think you’re going?” she scrambled after them but by the time she reached the airlock they were already donning their suits. 

 

_ Damn saiyans.  _

 

“Wait, Bardock,” she reached out and grabbed him by the arm and he stopped. “What about the plan, I thought we were supposed to stick to the plan.” she hadn’t outright said it but he knew, she was begging them to stay. 

 

He sighed deeply and turned to face her. Tschev complained loudly in Saiyan, something about hurrying with a smattering of cuss words. He lifted his gloved hand towards her and set something inside her hand. 

 

“Here.” 

 

It was his cigarette tin. 

 

“Next time you miss your pa…” 

 

Bardock wasn’t good at expressing his feelings, or  _ feeling  _ them for that matter. He always got quieter and less comfortable, smoking more and more as he got more and more emotional. 

 

It all clicked in Bulma’s head at the same time. They weren’t planning on coming back. She began to claw at his arm, pleading for them to stay but Bardock didn’t respond, simply looking away. Tschev gave her a pained look and stepped forward.

 

“I love a sentimental shit show as much as the next girl, but we ain’t got time for this. Sorry  _ Soesa _ , cap’s in trouble.” and with a genuine look of apology Tschev shoved Bulma backwards and slammed the button on the wall, sealing off the airlock and opening the hatch. 

 

* * *

* * *

TRANSLATIONS:

 

_ Fa’amailei  -  _ literally means to set a trap for someone or something, it doesn’t refer to any real life game. 

 

Ala la’ia - Get up! Now!   
  
O A’u. Vesita! Fa’akope! - It’s me! Vegeta! Hurry up!

 

* * *

 

AN: Sorry again for the delay this week! Neither of us have computers right now so a great deal of it is being done on cell phones. Thanks to thegayepidemic for beta-reading for us. Hopefully we will have a better solution soon and will be able to return to our regularly scheduled publishing times. 

 

Also thanks so much to everyone for the wonderful comments we were unable to publish responses on AO3 on the phone so we didn’t have a chance to do so yet. We have read all of them and greatly appreciate your comments. They mean so much to us and we thank you! We are so glad you are all enjoying the story! 

 

Love,

 

Mo 

 


	16. Seven Nation Army

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SEVEN NATION ARMY**

* * *

_ I’m gonna fight ‘em off _

_ A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back _

* * *

Bulma steeled herself as she stifled her tears, only to quickly fall apart again as the external airlock slammed shut behind Tschev and Bardock. She dashed to the controls of the pod and with a few quick presses and flips of buttons and switches she keyed into the coms of their helmets.

  
“-’bout two more clicks to the west.” Bardock was saying.   
  
“I see it. Might as well hit ‘em further from the base, I suppose.” Tschev replied.   
  
“‘Xactly. That way none can break off and sneak around, mobilize no ground vehicles or nothin’.”   
  
“We gonna land in time ta even get rid o’ these damn high-fallutin’ digs ‘fore they start tryin’a pump us full ‘o lead?”   
  
“Ehhh, we’ll make it work.” Bardock said, calmly. He hoped his own anxiety was sufficiently hidden through the comm and that Tschev couldn’t see his expression. Even with half the    
muscles in his face being dead, he was sure it wasn’t exactly a picture of ‘grace under fire’.   
“Mhm. You gonna be okay up there, Fetu?” Tschev asked.   
  
Bulma started from back up on the pod where she had been listening in silence.   
  
“Oh!” She squeaked in surprise. “Umm… yeah. How’d you know I was keyed in?”   
  
“You always been a loud breather.” Bardock chuckled.   
  
“I see…” Bulma replied.   
  
“Don’t worry none ‘bout us.” Tschev said. “We’ve gotten outta worse scrapes than this. Just stick to the plan. Vegeta’ll ground their aircraft ‘n blind their sensors one way or ‘nother n’ give you a window to come down ‘n pick us up when he’s ready. Just keep watch for the signal. Gotta be ready to go faster than the whippin’ winds through the willows so as to be gone before they can give chase.”   
  
“Right.” Bulma said. “I’ll be ready.”   
  
“And don’t worry ‘bout that bone.” Bardock said. “It’s just insurance. Make sure I come back to ‘n all that.”   
  
Bulma wished she believed his lie.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t do this.” Raditz slammed his fist into the floor. 

 

“Yes. You can.” Lato responded calmly, eyes still shut, poised and relaxed. 

 

“No...this...this is stupid.” He let his hands fall and slap his thighs as he stood to leave. He had never done anything so impossible before and he felt insanely inadequate. 

 

“Wait.” he heard her voice, barely more than a whisper, as he reached for the door handle. He found himself doing just that. Everything he had told him to leave, to run from his self-induced humiliation...but he didn’t. Instead he just stood at the door and he waited. 

 

Lato stood and walked towards him, resting a hand on his bicep. He turned to look at her, and she stared back at him. 

 

“You need to relax, Raditz.” 

 

Raditz tried to stop himself, to control his shame and his rage but he exploded. “Relax? Relax?! Lato how am I supposed to relax when the whole goddamn world is falling apart around me, eh?”

She didn’t seem to take offense, in fact it was like she hadn’t heard his outburst at all. She gracefully slid in between him and the door, looking up at him with bright eyes. 

 

“Let me show you.” 

 

Her fingers danced up his rough shirt to his collar where they hung off the loose fabric as she slid onto her tiptoes and leaned in closer. Raditz’s brain had stopped working mere seconds before but he couldn’t possibly understand what she was doing so close to him, her hands so warm.

 

With that she grabbed onto his shoulders and lifted herself off the ground, kissing him gently on the lips.

 

* * *

 

 

Vegeta slung the unconscious man from his shoulders and leaned his back against the wall, panting. He could fight for hours before his stamina became a handicap, but evading a mechanized security system while carrying a man heavier than he was and climbing several dozen levels out of a highly fortified subterranean complex was a different matter entirely.

 

He closed his eyes and pressed his head against the cold metal of the wall, taking advantage of the momentary reprieve granted him by a hasty grenade down a branching corridor on the previous level. He had to get his breathing under control. He wasn’t even halfway to the surface, and things would only get more difficult as he went. Factor in his quickly diminishing window of opportunity until the soldiers undoubtedly returned to the base as Vegeta knew they would, and his task seemed insurmountable. 

 

Vegeta eyed the sleeping Kakarot, grimacing as he snored peacefully with a goofy grin. It had been an ill-timed snore that alerted a guard patrol to Vegeta’s presence in the first place. Vegeta had thought of trying to wake him, but thought against it, remembering the stubborn fool’s refusal to leave before the return of someone named ‘Kuririn’ or something like that whom he hadn’t seen in days.   
  
Kakarot’s back was clearly visible through the shreds of his shirt. Frieza’s hospitality towards those in his care being as consistent as Vegeta remembered. Vegeta found it odd, seeing the obvious signs in Kakarot, the sleep deprivation, the malnourishment, the physical abuse to the point of death; and yet it hadn’t sunk in to him yet what it meant to not see a prisoner returned to his cell in days.  _ Fool. _   
  
Vegeta took one last deep breath before hoisting his kinsman back up onto his shoulders. He may be a damn fool, but he was a saiyan.    


* * *

Tschev hit the ground running, stripping her pressure suit off as she went and casting it aside. It was all Bardock could do to keep up. If they didn't hurry they wouldn't make it in time before the seven odd thousand soldiers stormed the compound.  


 

The drop site was well off from the facility, possibly too well hidden. They needed to attract attention and draw fire for as long as possible. Though, with how long it was taking, there wasn't any guarantee that it hadn't gone horribly wrong already.    
  
“Whoah now, hold yer horses!” Bardock yelled.   
  
“Ua pa lou va’a*?!” Tschev yelled back, “We ain’t got time for flappin’!”   
  
“Hang on a sec and listen!” Bardock said, struggling to remove his own pressure suit.“First of all, help me get this god-forsaken thing off.” He said, finally giving up.   
  
“Alright…” Bardock said, once free. “Now, the base is only about ten miles behind us. Way I figure, we gotta play this smart, or they’re just gonna go right round us. Now I saw a ridge ‘bout a click to the south. If I head a bit north, n’ you go south…”   
  
“We can funnel ‘em right through there.” Tschev said, Bardock’s plan dawning on her.   
  
“Bingo.” Bardock said. “Once we bottleneck neck ‘em through there, we increase our chances of holdin’ out ‘till Vegeta gets ta safety.”   
  
Tschev smiled. “Just don’t let none o’ them mossies do ‘ya in ‘fore we meet back up. That’ll be my honor, y’hear?”   
  
“Hm. Right...” Bardock smirked.

  
  


* * *

Raditz sat at the edge of the rug, shirtless, staring down at the form of the naked woman. She was so soft, so natural, she lay as if in a painting. He was wearing more clothes than she was and yet he felt horribly exposed. She rolled upwards and onto her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck and straddling his waist, he rocked backwards and leaned against the wall.

 

“I-I…” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry...I-” 

 

“Shhh-hhh-hhh.” she whispered tenderly against his lips as her small fingers traced the contours of his cheek, her bare breasts warmed his cold skin as she flattened herself against him. She leaned in, nibbling his ear slowly and making her way down the curve of his neck. “Don’t apologize.” she hummed as she kissed him, leaving a trail of warmth behind.

 

He struggled to contain his excitement, shifting awkwardly as he did. She was just so close to him, sitting right on top...he just knew she’d be able to- As if she could read his mind she ran her hands down his front slowly, letting them trace the lines of his muscles and scars. She stopped at the hem of his pants, her fingers hanging from the fabric lazily. His breath hitched in his throat. 

 

She looked up at him with a coy smile, her dark eyes dancing in the yellow of the swinging lights. 

 

“May I?” 

  
  


* * *

Vegeta slammed the supply closet door, a tumble of broom and mop handles clattering as he did so.  _ Eh… _ he thought.  _ Kakarot will be fine. _ He turned around, appreciative of his ability to take a long, deep breath without fifty extra kilograms pressing down on his shoulders. He stretched his neck and arms while inhaling deeply through his nose, and exhaled with a grin. After what seemed like an eternity of carrying a near corpse, he got to have some fun again.

  
He drew his pistols and peeked around the corner. He was in the main compound now, where all the command functions of the base were. There were bound to be more personnel here, as opposed to the bare minimum of guard patrols, so he had to be more careful. That was the hardest part. He didn’t  _ want _ to be careful. The all-too-familiar bloodlust began to boil in his veins at the mere anticipation of a fight, and it made him want to just charge through the halls shooting.   
  
He took another deep breath in through the nose, calming his racing heart and consciously relaxing his muscles which ached for  _ action _ rather than just exertion. The red lights that lined the ceilings were still flashing, showing that the alert the guard had triggered in surprise at Goku’s nasal interjection earlier was still in effect, though the audible alarm seems to have been silenced. The doors all along ever hallway were shut, which meant everyone was still on lockdown. Those on duty were at battle stations or security posts, those not on duty were confined to quarters.   
  
Vegeta attributed the empty hallways to the yet-to-return battalion. Part of him was saddened that he didn’t get to work his way through a fully staffed military compound, but the more rational part of his mind was grateful for the circumstance.

 

He quickly and silently made his way through the halls. It was a confusing labyrinth of corridors, but fortunately Frieza seemed to still have the lowest standards in the galaxy for military service, and that meant that even with a policy of posting only the minimum possible directions and labels of sections and so forth that there was essentially a color-coordinated map with a brightly labeled ‘You are here!’ star at every junction.   
  
In minutes he was at the center of the base, where a huge, hollow, cylindrical column ran through the base from the surface through the crust of the planet and deeper still. The base operated off of a combination of geo-thermal energy and natural gasses and fossil fuels, and it all funneled up through a refinery that would be at the bottom of this hollow tube. Vegeta always thought it was a stupid design. The idea was that processing that much energy needed an efficient exhaust system, but Vegeta figured a better way would be to have a network of smaller exhaust pipes emanating from the center. It would be more expensive to install and maintain, but it would prevent people from doing what Vegeta was about to do, in any case.   
  
It took almost no time at all for Vegeta to clear the engineering ring that ran around the outside of the exhaust shaft. It was hardly even satisfying - they weren’t even warriors, they may as well have been infants. It didn’t matter. He was about to have quite a bit of fun, and put a lot of his training to the test at the same time.   
  
There was a thin walkway that extended across the open exhaust shaft and led to its center, where there were various diagnostic devices to monitor the concentration of various compounds and other scientific nonsense Vegeta didn’t care about. Apparently, such information could tell you a lot about the efficiency of the reactor down below and be important for making sure it worked right. For when those diagnostic parts needed replacing, there were small air tanks and masks one could use to avoid inhaling toxic fumes while traversing the rickety walkway. Vegeta grabbed a mask and put it on, rushing out onto the walkway.   
  
He stood as close to the center of the shaft as he could, before widening his stance and bending his knees. He wondered what a  _ Final Flash _ would do to the reactor as he took a deep breath of stale air from the mask that hid his smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Nappa dropped himself on the ramp of the ship with a heavy  _ thud _ and a groan. Didn’t like having all this time to think, thinkin’ was a fool’s game and Nappa wadn’t no fool. Well...he was but he hadn’t  _ always  _ been. 

 

He shifted to pull the small piece of paper from his back pocket. It was old and worn, folded in fours. He unfolded the photograph. It was the only photograph they had ever taken together, the day that Vegeta had come to live on their ship, the day he had been rescued. 

 

They had all been so small, only children when he had found them, and he had had more hair then. He laughed to himself. What a raggle-taggle crew they had turned out to be. How far they had all come. 

 

Tschev, had just barely learned to talk then. She’d spent all of her time as a smutch rat on a purge vessel, no exposure to language or nothing of the sort, never been shown no tenderness from another saiyan. Who knows how long she had been alone, they had found her ship floating dead in space, a hole blasted through the hull. She had survived just barely by taking shelter in an un-launched escape pod. Took her nearly two years to speak and then she only spoke to Basil. He traced over Basil’s chubby little face with the pad of his thumb, tears stinging his eyes. Lato held Basil as she sucked on her thumb, holding her saibaman doll close to her chest. 

 

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” he cleared his throat but couldn’t manage to stop the tears. “My lil’ toa*....” as he ran his hand over all of them, of the eleven children in the photograph only four were left. “Couldn’t save ya all. Probably won’t a even a saved none o’ ya by the time this is all over.” 

 

He looked up at the dark sky, watching the stars flicker in the distance. 

 

“I miss you all, y’know that? Not a day goes by I don’t think none of y’alls. I’m...I’m sorry I failed ya.” 

 

* * *

 

Lato moved Raditz’s hand up to rest on her thigh as he leaned over her. He was just so nervous, he had never done anything like this before and he felt vastly under prepared. In some ways he felt he had been doing better at meditating than this. Oh, she must’ve been so miserable with a whelp like him. His thoughts spiraled out of control as he stopped moving. 

 

She ran her tongue along her lips, dry from heavy breathing and cocked her head to the side. 

 

“I have an idea.” she mused as she rested her hands on his shoulders, without parting their hips, she rolled him over. Suddenly she was on top, suddenly she was in control. The nakedness Raditz had felt had been nothing in comparison to this. He was at her mercy. 

 

She rocked her hips back and forth smoothly against his, like lapping ocean waves she slipped forward and back over and over again. A moan slipped from his lips and he bit down. He had never felt anything like it before. He tried to stifle his moans against the back of his hand, he didn’t want her to-

 

“Raditz…” she interrupted his thoughts. He looked up at her, her bare breasts bathed in yellow light as they moved up and down. He fought the urge to reach out and wrap his hands around them, squeezing them. He was suddenly embarrassed that he had even had the thought in the first place. “You want to know what your problem is,  _ love _ ? You think too much. Don’t think at all, just be here in this moment, and let yourself  _ feel _ .” she emphasized the word with a twist of her hips and he unravelled. 

 

* * *

Bardock ran as quickly as he could. From the high ground that the hilly terrain afforded him, it had been no trouble to rout the troops southward. The hardest part was aiming grenades with only one good eye. He was off more than once, but he had been successful overall. Now, he had to be faster than the troops. He knew one person can move a lot quicker than soldiers can move together if they’re on foot, but he had seen they were using troop transports. He’d managed to scrap a few of them, which would necessitate them stopping long enough to move the surviving soldiers from the broken transports and crowd them onto others, but that would only buy him so much time.

  
He was sprinting as fast as he could when a shock wave rocked the ground beneath his feet. He turned in the direction of the military base in distance, just in time to see a spout of flame erupt into the sky as the base began to smoke.    
  
He quickly regained his focus and started running again. An explosion like that had to have been Vegeta, which meant he was getting desperate, and that thought steeled Bardock’s resolve.   
  
In a few minutes he arrived at the ridge where they intended to funnel the soldiers. Passing that, he found Tschev just to the south, not-so-carefully doing some landscaping to make what she could of the terrain impassable for large troop formations or vehicles, and mining the rest.   
  


“Eh! Bardock!” Tschev yelled when she saw him. “You catch that shockwave a minute ago? I think Vegeta’s having a bit of fun over there and I-”   
  
“Don’t worry none about that!” Bardock yelled. “They went north right from the get-go, probably won’t even bother coming this far south. What you’ve blocked off will be enough, particularly as they’re in a hurry. They’re in trucks and haulin’ ass. I lambasted a few. In any case, they’re gonna need relatively flat ground, and since they can’t go up around to the north, they’re going through under the ridge.”   
  
“Well shit, all my fine work.” Tschev spat, her bare foot kicking up dirt into the air. “Fer nothin’.”   
  
“It’s beautiful, Tschev. Truly. Now let’s go.” Bardock said, impatiently turning back towards the ridge.   
  
They arrived shortly, panting lightly.   
  
“We’re gonna need to get them outta them trucks.” Tschev said.   
  
“What you armed with?” Bardock asked.   
  
“Well, I set most of my C-4 to the south, so I got a couple pistols and I got my fists.”   
  
“I got Annie” He said, affectionately patting his sawed-off shotgun. “I got a pistol, and 3 grenades left.” he said.   
  
“Can you still use ki?” Tschev asked.   
  
Bardock looked offended.   
  
“I was just askin’.” she said.   
  
“Nah, it’s fine. I get what yer sayin’.” he dismissed the subject, plucking a wild stem of wheat and sticking it in his mouth. He chewed on it casually. “Let’s make a roadblock….”   
  
“Let’s.” She said, grinning.

 

* * *

The hardest part of Vegeta’s plan was getting  _ out _ of the exhaust shaft before the explosion from the reactor below incinerated him. It wasn’t as hard as Vegeta had expected though, and whether that was because he was faster than he had thought or because the reactor was deeper than he had thought he couldn’t say. All he could say was that it had been fun to watch the pillar of fire pour up out of the base, and to hear the collective sound of hundreds or thousands of devices all lose power simultaneously across the base. Backup generators would be activated for essential functions, but the base was essentially crippled. This was a training base and a prison. It wasn’t in a particularly strategic position, and so it wasn’t afforded all the benefits of multiple redundant backup power systems.

  
Vegeta hastily returned to where he had stowed Kakarot. He was almost disappointed to see how comfortable he looked among the cleaning supplies, mops, and buckets. Even in his current state, he was sleeping more soundly than Vegeta ever had.   
  
“Tzch.” Vegeta said, before bending down to once more hoist the sleeping saiyan onto his shoulders. He steadied Kakarot with one hand, drew a pistol with his other, and went as fast as his legs would carry him towards the nearest exit.   
  
“Hey y-” 

  
BANG!   
  
“Hmph. Idiot” Vegeta said, of the soldier who was stupid enough to try to challenge an intruder without his own weapon drawn. It was more of the same as Vegeta progressed. All-in-all, that made the total for the day somewhere in the fifties. Possibly more if the exploding reactor had caught any hapless victims in its death throes.   
  
Vegeta came to an abrupt halt as he reached a t-junction, unsure of which way to turn. Then he smelled it, the distinct combination of swamp water and musk.   
  
“Now now, Vegeta. Leaving so soon?” a smooth voice called from behind him as he was about to run to the left.   
  
“Zarbon.” Vegeta said, not even bothering to turn around. He would recognize that voice anywhere. “Did you get demoted? Kind of a shit post for Frieza’s right-hand man, wouldn’t you say?”   
  
“Oh, not at all, monkey-boy.” Zarbon said. “You see, we figured you’d be coming for your little friend there after we captured him, particularly since we made sure that his prisoner records were unencrypted on all our networks for the next time you planned a raid. You found the bait rather handily, I’d say. Of course, we had to fudge the records a bit, make it seem like we hadn’t hastily transferred him here after we got the distress beacon from the purger vessel that crashed on the rogue planet - that would have been too obvious, but we needed to make sure he was close enough for you to want to mount a rescue, after all.”   
  
Now Vegeta turned around, his eyebrows furrowed into a scowl that seethed with the rage of a thousand dying suns. He slipped Kakarot from his shoulders and onto the ground. Zarbon stood about ten meters off. In addition to his modified uniform, he was wearing that gaudy cape he loved so much, as well as the ridiculous stockings on his arms and legs. His long green hair was braided in a thick ponytail that hung over the front of his left shoulder, and he still had a circlet around his forehead, with a purple gem dangling in between his eyebrows that complimented his smooth blue-tinted skin. His yellow eyes sparkled with delight at having caught Vegeta, who had the suspicion that he had planned this all along. Vegeta always felt a bit nauseous when he saw or smelled Zarbon, and had a hard time imagining how he was considered handsome or gorgeous pretty much everywhere he went.    
  
“You always pissed me off, Zarbon.” Vegeta said. “How do you manage to always be so clean? You live so far up Frieza’s ass, I would think it’s impossible. Your sycophancy is unmatched, except by your narcissism and vanity.”   
  
“And your ineptitude, I’d say!” Zarbon laughed. “To think I actually thought we were making things  _ too  _ obvious, and yet from your expression, you really had no idea, did you? I’m actually stunned, Vegeta. I can’t believe I actually thought better of you. Oh well, you live and learn, as they say.”   
  
“Let’s just get this over with.” Vegeta said. “I have places to be. And don’t worry, I’ll try not to ruin your make-up too badly.”   
  
“Hmmm. Very well, then.”

 

* * *

Bardock leaned forward and bit his lip, whistling to Tschev, who swung around towards him. She could see him leaning forward, arm resting on his knee and she smirked. They may have hated each other, ofttimes going less than five words without starting another fight, but in battle? They were simply meant to be.

 

He tossed his pistol in the air just as she ran towards him. Right as their bodies almost collided she reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders, flipping forward over his back as he stood and landing on a soldier behind him. She shoved the gun into the back of her shorts. 

 

“Hey there cutie.” she winked as she shoved her thumbs into his eyes and popped them out of their sockets before drawing the pistol that Bardock had kindly provided her.   
  
The bottleneck had worked flawlessly, and with a few ki blasts, they roughed up the ground enough to make the transports nonviable. After that, it was a simple enough matter to stand in the road and let them come. The worst part was getting through the officers and all their yelling of ‘Surrender’ and ‘Stand down or we will be forced to open fire!’ and all their other impotent garbage. Tschev had eventually lost her patience and blown off some commander’s head to finally get the message to sink in. Bardock had laughed at the sight of the soldiers looking to each other dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. He hadn’t meant to but something about it struck a nerve and he found it all hilarious.

 

It was so... _ Tschev _ of her.

 

In any case, they were now fighting for their lives, and with every slain Frieza Force soldier, another dozen poured out of the next transport that had gotten into place to unload.

* * *

Of course, Vegeta had lied. Zarbon knew he had lied, but it still upset him that his nose was bleeding, his lip was swollen, and he had a cut under one eye. It would bruise for sure, and badly. Zarbon wanted to believe he had given as well as he had taken, but the fact of the matter was that that wasn’t true. Vegeta had gotten stronger.

 

A  _ lot _ stronger.

  
And faster. His technique had improved as well. Zarbon simply couldn’t fathom how this primitive monkey  _ child _ could do this to him.    
  
He wiped the blood from his lip.   
  
“Not bad, Vegeta.” he said, not betraying how flustered he was. “You’ve improved, I must say. But honestly you’re beginning to bore me. So as much as it’s been real, and for sure it’s been fun, it hasn’t been  _ real fun _ .”   
  
“Tzch.” Vegeta scoffed. “You’re not fooling anyone, Zarbon. I can see it in your eyes. Terror isn’t a good look for you.”   
  
Zarbon’s practiced smile vanished and was replaced by an impotent grimace.    
  
“You disgusting  _ primate!” _ he charged forward, swinging wildly.   
  
Zarbon’s momentum caused him to barrel past Vegeta, who sidestepped the wild charge with ease. He swung wildly again and again. Vegeta wasn’t even breathing heavily. What was worse was that he was  _ smiling _ . How in the world could this have happened? No saiyan had ever been this powerful. Even Vegeta’s father, the strongest saiyan in a generation had been nothing compared to Zarbon, and here his adolescent son was making a plaything out of him.   
  
Another swing, another miss. A punch. A kick. A jab. Vegeta saw it all and he was almost moving lazily and yet Zarbon  _ could not hit him! _   
  
Every few swings, Zarbon would be stung by a blow. Vegeta was fast and precise, and Zarbon barely even saw them coming before they hit. They were wearing him down.   
  
Vegeta was enjoying himself immensely. He’d never imagined that Zarbon would be this easy. Right at first, he’d gotten a few hits in, but Vegeta could only conclude that it had been due to some psychological factor from the years Vegeta had spent with Zarbon as a superior. Once Vegeta landed a blow, then another, the tides seemed to shift continually in his favor. He was having so much fun with this that he almost forgot what a hurry they were in. The  _ Soesa _ ...er,  _ Fetu _ , was probably chewing her fingers off by now.   
  
It was time to end this, much as Vegeta wanted to draw it out. He slid under a wild swing, turning as he did so and smashed his knee into Zarbon’s groin. Zarbon froze, his body rigid with pain.   
  
“Won’t be using that any time soon…” Vegeta said. “Or… ever again.”    
  
Zarbon slowly turned his head towards Vegeta, a sick grin on his face. He raked his fingernails across Vegeta’s face, then followed up with a cross-punch, knocking Vegeta back.   
  
“You know, Frieza does worse.” Zarbon said as Vegeta picked himself up from the floor.   
  
“Ugh.” Vegeta tried not to gag as he imagined the two of them tangled together. He should’ve known Zarbon was a sick freak.   
  
Zarbon didn’t give Vegeta any more time to recover, rushing over to him to drive another fist into his face, but it merely collided into cold metal.

 

Vegeta rolled to his feet and kicked Zarbon’s left knee out from behind him, jabbed his kidney, and smashed his right elbow into the back of Zarbon’s head.   
  
Zarbon collapsed face-first to the ground. Vegeta lifted his head by the ponytail, gathering ki into his hand.   
  
“Huehuehuehue…” Zarbon laughed grotesquely. “Go ahead, kill me. Frieza’s already on his way. Probably already here. I just had to delay you anyway. As much as you’ve gotten stronger, you’re still nothing compared to Frieza….”   
  
“Wha-” Vegeta started to panic. He could hear his own rapid, frantic breaths before he felt them. No, no, no, no. This was not good. He looked over at Kakarot’s peaceful frame, his chest rising and falling slowly, an occasional snore erupting from him. He thought of Fetu and then Tschev and Bardock.   
  
“Actually,” he said, “I think I’ll leave you alive. We both know how Frieza feels about those who have failed him. Besides…” Rather than blast the Ki into Zarbon, as he had planned, he just pushed it slowly onto his face, burning and charring his features that he knew Zarbon to be so proud of. “...I think death would be easier for you than this….”

 

He got up and returned to Kakarot, picking him up for the last time onto his shoulders. He turned back to the whimpering Zarbon before leaving.

 

“Well I wish you both the best of happiness.”

 

* * *

 

Bulma chewed on her nails obsessively as she passively toyed with the controls, she had since discovered she had no way of interpreting the ping messages that Bardock and Tschev had heard, surmising it was little more than a coded message. Something they had known from their long fight against Frieza. 

 

She was safe behind the moon, every orbital security sweep passing her by, but she felt restless and useless as she waited. 

 

Bulma nearly fell out of the chair when she saw a burst of purple light erupt in the atmosphere on the planet’s surface, sending a ripple through the clouds.

 

It was Vegeta, it had to be. It looked just like the signal Vegeta gave back when they went to the shipyard for parts, except much, much bigger. She scrambled back into her seat and hastily started manipulating the controls. She had been whining to herself for over an hour about how useless she felt and now that it was showtime she could barely get her hands to go where they needed to to turn the pod off impulse control and pilot.   
  
“Hang on.” She whispered with a smirk. “Mama’s comin!”

* * *

 

Surrounded. They were surrounded, they were out of ammunition, and they were out of options. 

 

They had killed nearly a thousand soldiers between the two of them and had barely scratched the surface. With heaving breaths, they circled like trapped animals until they found their backs pressed against each other. 

 

“Bardock.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

He waited for a response amongst the shouts to surrender and lay on the ground with their hands on their heads. 

 

When she finally spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically timid, little more than a thoughtful whisper. 

 

“Do you think I'll ever see her again?” He didn't need to ask, he knew who she was talking about. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he was thinking of Gine, just as Tschev was thinking of Basil. 

 

“Y'know, ” he grunted as he tossed aside his pistol, it was nearly useless without ammunition. “Stoks always said somethin’ bout an afterlife, never put much stock into it….guess there's only one way to find out, right?” 

 

She smirked as she dropped into a crouch, her eyes alight with renewed vigor. 

 

“Guess so.” She muttered before letting out a howl.

  
  


* * *

 

The pod door dropped and in the blink of an eye Vegeta was inside, the unconscious prisoner hoisted over his shoulder, bloody clawmarks raked across his face. He slammed the button to close the pod over and over again, with a sense of urgency Bulma had never seen.

 

Bulma had left her seat to join him at the pod doors. 

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped at her. “Get back to the controls.” 

 

She nearly jumped backwards, looking behind him and expecting impending troops, only to see empty landscape out the small window located next to the pod door. She was surprised...and now she was angry. 

 

“Well  _ hello _ to you too, jerkface. What crawled up your butt and died?” 

 

“We don’t have time for this.” Vegeta tossed Kakarot down almost carelessly and pushed his bangs from his eyes, staying out of his face for several seconds before dropping back down into his eyes and eliciting and irritated growl. “If you’re not going to pilot the pod then I will.” 

 

He marched hastily to the controls and before Bulma could beat him to it he was already taking off. 

 

“But wait! What about Bardock and Tschev.” 

 

Vegeta winced at their names. Silent. After what felt like an eternity he spoke. 

 

“It’s too late. They didn’t make it.” 

 

“No. No you’re lying.” Bulma stated obstinately. “No. They can’t just be gone like that. They can’t be.” she was screaming now and she wanted to stop, needed to stop but she couldn’t. “You’re a liar. You left them because you’re a coward.” 

 

Vegeta was eerily calm, callous, and aloof. He had slipped into that mode and nothing would pull him back to his regular self until he was good and ready. The longer she had known him the more and more time he spent like this. She was afraid that one day he would go to this place and he would never come back from it again. She would lose him.

 

“I’m not lying  _ Fetu _ . They are dead. No childish words will bring them back or save our sorry skins.” 

 

“What do you mean  _ save our skins _ ?” Bulma was suddenly afraid. 

 

“Frieza’s coming.”

 

* * *

 

“Has your prophecy changed?” Frieza’s voice slithered through the darkness, waking the old bone reader from her light slumber. 

 

She yawned slowly and scratched the side of her face with her bent, arthritic fingers. But she said nothing.

 

“Well, hag?” he spat through gritted teeth as his long tail rapped at the ground impatiently. 

 

Nothing. 

 

“Tell me!” He screamed hysterically as his fist drove through the metal wall, tearing it apart with ease, he tore apart the wall of the cell like a small child throwing a tantrum. The bone reader decided that the small tyrant was unusually irate and excitable today.

 

“Very well.” she muttered and grunted as she sat forward on the balls of her feet.

 

The old woman crouched on the ground, wrapped in rags and bathed in darkness. Her blind eyes stared blankly forward, lips pursed in irritation. She groped at the ground for the wooden bowl that held an assortment of bones. Pulling a small jagged blade from the folds of cloth that hung about her waist she sliced her palm, listening to the quiet  _ plip, plip, plip _ as the blood dripped on the bones. 

 

She lifted the bowl and rattled it rhythmically, whispering ancient spells under her breath, as she listened to the impatient grumblings of her captor. Then she stopped, setting the bowl down and carefully tracing her bent and broken hands along the shapes of the bloody bones. 

 

“Ah.” she whispered. 

 

Frieza leaned in, anxiously awaiting the prophecy of his future. 

 

“Nothing has changed.” she stated matter-of-factly. 

 

“What?” he quipped furiously, barely containing his rage. 

 

“You will die by a saiyan’s hand. Nothing has changed.” She laughed maniacally as she carefully wrapped the bowl in rags and tucked it into her sleeve. 

 

“You…” Frieza resisted the urge to wrap his foot around her face and crush her skull, feeling the hot squish of blood between his toes. The thought alone calmed him enough to regain a little composure. 

 

“Where are they?” he lifted her by the throat with his tail, squeezing tighter and tighter.

 

She laughed in response, she was taunting him and he hated it. 

 

“Where are the saiyans, witch?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

 

“Ah, ah, ah.” She chastised the tyrant fearlessly. He paused for a moment and dropped her. He waited impatiently as she pulled the bowl from her sleeve and unwrapped the bones, shaking them rhythmically in the bowl. Frieza turned towards the guard at the door.

 

“Ensign be prepared to plot a course to-” 

 

She interrupted Frieza, who looked surprised by her impudence. 

 

“No need. They’re already here.”

  
  


* * *

* * *

TRANSLATIONS:

 

Ua pa lou va’a - _ Lit. _ means “has your boat cracked  _ or  _ broken?” or “are you brain damaged?”

Toa - warriors

 

* * *

 

AN: Again, sorry for the late chapter this week, my dudes. Still computer less and still dealing with a stupid crazy amount of work. Hope you enjoy this latest chapter my sweet satsumas! 

 

All the love, 

 

Mo 

 

PS thanks to thegayepidemic for beta-reading. Love you, m’dear.


	17. Jump into the Fire

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: JUMP INTO THE FIRE**

* * *

_ You can climb a mountain, _

_ you can swim the sea _

_ You can jump into the fire  _

_ but you’ll never be free _

* * *

 

The pod rested on the underside of an asteroid just inside a raging ion storm, slowly rotating as it drifted along, occasionally illuminated by a burst of discharging energy. Bulma found herself eternally grateful for the artificial gravity of the pod, cringing at the thought of slowly turning barrel-rolls for hours without it.

 

Honestly, Bulma was proud of herself. She was  _ damn _ proud of herself, but Vegeta didn’t seem the slightest bit impressed or thankful. And she was beginning to feel more than a little irritated with his aloof behavior. His tension had not eased in the least. He was still just as snappy and  _ rude _ as he had been when he first set foot on the pod.

 

She nagged on about how vastly underappreciated she was as he turned his attention to Kakarot. All the while trying his best to ignore the  _ Soesa _ and her constant nagging. 

 

“You know if I hadn’t...oh my god...Vegeta...are you even- it’s awful.” she trailed off through the sting of tears. She had seen some of the most horrific things she could ever imagine over the past months. And, to her credit, she had toughened up quite a bit, especially considering where she had started. But it wasn’t that. No. It wasn’t the horrifically deep gash marks, or the hot, swollen infection in his back. It wasn’t that the bone of his ribs was exposed - she’d seen Goku take his fair share of injuries. No. It was that it had obviously been torture.

 

This man had been mercilessly, relentlessly, and repeatedly tortured. 

 

Vegeta’s quick and graceful handiwork began to pull her from the whirlpool of thoughts that threatened to spill her carefully contained emotions. 

 

“He’s…” 

 

“Mmm?” Vegeta mused quietly as he pulled on a pair of gloves. 

 

“Vegeta can’t you see it? He’s been tortured.” 

 

His reaction surprised her and she nearly fell backwards. He was  _ laughing  _ at her. Actually laughing. 

 

“Yes,  _ Fetu _ , he has.” he sounded almost condescending in his tone and it made her face feel hot. She instinctively crossed her arms and pursed her lips. 

 

“Well, wise guy, you could try and show a little sympathy for the man.”

 

“The word you’re looking for is empathy.” he nearly whispered numbly as he cleaned the wounds. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Nothing.”

 

There was a brief silence as he worked, a reprieve for him that only served to mount Bulma’s growing feelings of distress. Finally she snapped and broke the silence.

 

“Vegeta, is he going to die?” she finally managed as she watched him clean the deep wounds. 

 

“No.” he said with a finality that tugged her out of her curiosity. Before she could pry he cut in again curtly with a threatening tone. “No, he’ll live.”

 

“But ho-” 

 

“Trust me.” he tensed at the words and his tone threatened her not to continue. 

 

Vegeta turned the prisoner over onto his back as Bulma stared on in shock and horror at his frail, thin frame. Though thinner than she had ever seen him, he was nearly twice Vegeta’s size. Battered and bruised, a pained scowl twisted his playful features, but it was him. It was Goku. 

 

“G-Goku?” Bulma stuttered as she stepped forward, stroking the side of his face, gently. He didn’t stir, still deep in restful slumber. 

 

Vegeta was busy digging through Tschev’s medical supplies, hooking him up to an IV, and poking and prodding him with various things. 

 

“He ain’t gonna wake up for some time now  _ Fetu _ . Leave Kakarot be.” 

 

“This ain’t Kakarot.” 

 

“Like hell he ain’t. Look at his face and tell me he don’t look nothin’ like Bardock.” 

 

“Well…” He had a point. Goku looked eerily like Bardock. It was then that she had a stunning revelation. “Vegeta...Kakarot and Goku are the same person.” 

 

He stopped for a moment and turned to her, tapping the needle in his hand before casually pricking Goku’s arm with it and accenting the push of the syringe with a twinge of irritation.

“You fixin’ to tell me that Kakarot has been alive and well all these years on some godforsaken  _ blue planet _ in the middle of East Ass-end Nowhere and not once did he try and get back to his people? No. Maybe a...whatever you were, but not a saiyan. Don’t buy it. Not for one minute.” Vegeta quipped. 

 

“Were?”

 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Y'know… ‘fore you were a saiyan.” 

 

As Vegeta flipped the sleeping Goku onto his stomach, he stripped off the shreds of his shirt that had remained. Bulma continued to drabble on behind him and he growled, rolling his eyes. 

 

“What is it  _ now _ ?” 

 

“Trust me. Goku may be a saiyan but he’s not one. I mean, he is...” she chuckled to herself thinking of all his habits that were so similar to the rest of the crews’. “...but, he’s not fa’aSeiani*. Trust me,” she muttered, losing focus as she stared into Goku’s face. “He has no idea he’s an alien at all.”  

 

* * *

 

Frieza drummed his fingers slowly and rhythmically on the leather arm of his seat, his legs crossed daintily in front of him, while he swirled his bloodwine gracefully in his other hand.

 

“Now,” he mused, dragging the words out, “Zarbon…give me one good reason why I should not kill you  _ right...now _ .”

 

The last word was accented by a beam of light from his finger that shot through Zarbon's kneecap. The small blast so powerful it nearly obliterated the joint. 

 

“You  _ know _ there is simply no room for error in my army, or have you supposed your status as my little  _ plaything _ has awarded you some immunity from the punishment for such blatant and  _ inexcusable failure, _ ” Frieza spoke smoothly and calmly as he stood from his chair, circling Zarbon as he struggled to stand. 

 

“My Lord-” before Zarbon could finish he found his face smashed into the floor, mercilessly crushing his crisped flesh. He struggled to contain the white-hot pain that threatened to send a scream ripping through his throat. That would only worsen his punishment. 

 

“It was Vegeta…he's gotten stronger, my lord.”

 

Frieza laughed darkly. “You mean to tell me the Saiyan child did  _ this _ to you? To  _ my _ second-in-command?”

 

But his laughter was shallow and taut. Zarbon could hear the anxiousness bubbling up between the cracks of his words. 

 

“My Lord if you would permit me to explain.” 

 

Frieza lifted his foot from Zarbon's head and Zarbon bowed to the floor, cautiously relaying the tale of his encounter with Vegeta, mere hours beforehand.

 

When he had finished he looked at his master with desperate eyes. Without a word, Frieza sauntered towards the window looking outwards towards the vastness of space. 

 

“Leave me. I have someone I must consult with.”

 

If Zarbon didn't know any better he would have said Frieza was afraid. 

 

* * *

 

Vegeta held the cool, wet cloth to his face, wincing as it stung the swelling flesh. He cursed under his breath and wiped the water from his throat before he tossed the cloth aside angrily. 

 

He bunched his pillow up and held it tight against his chest, his face burning hot from whatever secreted poison Zarbon had left under his skin. It wouldn't kill him. No, it wouldn't even come close. It wasn't strong enough for that. But it had made him  _ miserably _ ill. He couldn't relax, couldn't get comfortable, or hold down food, and his brain felt like it was melting down his spine. 

 

Vegeta drifted into a fitful sleep to the quiet beeping of the sensor array, thoughts of Tschev and Bardock, and a rolling, aching nausea. 

 

* * *

 

The two men sat back to back, heads leaned against each other on the small traditional rug, legs crossed, eyes closed. Bardock rolled the unlit cigarette over and over again across his teeth, grinding into the paper. 

 

“How far’re we?” he grumbled dreamily. 

“We’re close now.” Stoks said, eyes closed, hands knit in meditation. Bardock always found his voice so calming. Especially when he was, well, wherever he was.

 

“How close is close, kid?” 

 

“Don’t call me kid,  _ badi* _ .” he smiled, eyes still closed in a lulled state of meditation and vision. 

 

Bardock wondered what sort of world Stoks existed in when he was like this...somewhere else, touching something divine, or whatnot. At least that’s what Bardock supposed. Bardock didn’t believe in the divine, didn’t much believe in nothing, if he was honest...but Stoks almost changed that… _ almost _ . 

 

Bardock moved to absentmindedly scratch his arm before pausing and dropping his hand back into his lap. 

 

_ Right.  _

 

Nearly two years had passed and he still wasn't used to it. He lifted his hand to rest on his shoulder, feeling the pull of the gnarled scar tissue as he rested the back of his head against Stoks's. To their credit their new crew had still had a semi-functioning healing tank and had tried to heal Bardock, but his wounds had been too severe, too old. It had done nothing. He banished the thought, feeling the fingers that were no longer there drum against his leg. 

 

Vegeta peered in the room at the curious pair, and they were curious indeed. Among everything else it was the first time a saiyan, or saiyans in this case, had found  _ them _ and not the other way around. 

 

The younger one had said they had been guided, by what he didn't say. But now he claimed he would guide them to another saiyan. 

 

Only time would tell if he was right or not.

 

* * *

 

“We got a drifter captain. Right off starboard, sir.” Kahdish relayed, she turned towards the captain, her hair slipping from behind her ears and into her eyes. The thin, small boy sat in the chair, his feet dangling off the ground and his chin resting on his hands, fists knit together and eyes squinted in concentration. 

 

“Pursue.” he said finally. This was it. Just as the saiyan mystic had described.

 

“Aye, captain.” She quickly turned back around as her fingers danced across the mixed controls the ship moved closer to the floating vessel. 

 

The closer they got the more debris and damage they saw. The purger vessel had clearly been blasted to hell and back but it was showing life signs, however faint they were.

 

“Nappa.” 

 

“Yes, cap?”

 

“Prepare the away team. You, Bardock, Kino, Mosh, and I will go; see if we can't find nothing worth takin’. Kahdish, you have the bridge.” with that he hopped down from his seat and strode with confidence towards the airlock, pulling the gun from its holster and spinning it in the air before he holstered it again. 

 

* * *

 

Bulma brushed Goku’s hair out of his face and listened to his faint snoring. He was smiling. Through everything he had been through, he was still  _ smiling _ .

 

_ Some things never change. _

 

But many things had. He was thinner, bruised, and covered in makeshift bandages.

 

She let herself cry, as she held his hand to her face. A remnant of her dead life that had sparked something in her she couldn't quite describe. 

 

Time and war had changed them both.

 

“Oh...Goku...what happened?”

 

* * *

 

The ship was arguably in worse condition inside than out. Whoever had boarded the vessel had mercilessly slaughtered everyone aboard. Bodies of the crew hung from chains above, slowly swinging back and forth in the dimly lit vessel and crashing into each other, dripping blood from their open eyes and mouths down through the grated flooring. 

 

Vegeta thought of Stoks’s words. 

 

_ “Careful.” Stoks had warned as Vegeta headed for the launch bay. “She’s dangerous.”  _

 

_ If she survived all of this. _ He thought.  _ She must be.  _

 

In his short life Vegeta had seen the most gruesome of things but something about all of this turned his stomach and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up. The corpses swayed ever so gently, like dancers in a waltz, empty eyes staring down at their prince. Just a scared little boy, powerless to stop it all. 

 

The crew wandered through the wreckage, sounds muffled through the radio comm of their pressure suits. But they could hear something. Mosh held up her hand, her hard expression unreadable. The others stopped and waited. She pointed towards the airlock and the crew followed. Mosh, Vegeta, Nappa, Bardock, and then Kino. 

 

There it was again. 

 

_ Skritch, skritch, skritch…. _

 

_ Skritch.  _

 

Mosh crouched as she got closer to the airlock, carefully looking through the window, her weapon drawn. When she turned back to Vegeta her expression confused him. The hard lines of her militant face softened with tenderness and surprise. She stood. 

 

“It’s a saiyan. There’s a little girl in there, sir.” 

 

_ Curious.  _

 

* * *

Vegeta walked into the medical bay, trying to control the twitching of his eye. Bardock leaned against the wall, smoking and laughing hoarsely as Nappa let a slew of curses fall from his mouth.

 

“Keep still,  _ sole _ *. Stop hoppin’ about, she ain’t gonna wake for quite some time. She’s happier than a dead pig in the sunshine.” Kino chuckled as he continued to stitch the open bite mark on Nappa’s hand. 

 

“Damn smutch rat, done bit the shit outta me.”

 

Vegeta would've laughed had he not been so annoyed with Nappa. He looked down at the wild child, sleeping peacefully on the metal slab. She was nothing more than a small, naked, filthy girl. 

 

_ A smutch rat.  _

 

Vegeta had heard of them but he had never met one before. Children that were born for one purpose. To care for, distribute, and reload the weapons on purge vessels. Rumors said they slept in pits, curled up together like rabbits in a hole, that they scurried through the jeffries tubes of the ship and that they never learned to speak or read….that they didn’t have names.

 

But Vegeta never put much stock in rumors. They would need to wait until she woke for their answers.

 

But those answers never came. Even after Tschev learned to talk, she never spoke of that day or any day before. She would simply say that as far as she was concerned, she had been born that day on Kino’s table. She would never breathe a word of it to anyone else, anyone except for Basil. 

 

For a time he wandered aimlessly through the ship. 

 

Vegeta stepped onto the bridge and stopped. The two sisters were standing at the bay window. He slid into the shadows and watched for a time as they spoke to one another.

 

Lato and Basil stood hand in hand. Basil tucked her stuffed toy under her arm so she could hold her sister’s hand while sticking her thumb in her mouth. They had docked with the broken ship and the pair of girls stood staring at the floating wreckage in the darkness of space. 

 

“Do you think she’ll be nice?” Basil asked, her voice muffled by the finger in her mouth. 

 

“I don’t know,  _ uso _ *. We don’t even know if they are a she yet.”

 

“But the man said it  _ waaas. _ ” she whined. She desperately wanted a friend. Lato would play with her, entertain her, but she was always so serious. Basil needed a friend she could get in trouble with.

 

They heard footsteps and instinctively broke hands and flattened themselves in the dark spaces along the edges of the bevelled window. No kids except the captain on the bridge. Kahdish must be back. 

 

The strange new saiyan in strange clothes stood at the window and sighed. He was so old, almost twenty whole years. He closed his eyes and smiled, thumbing the edge of the medallion around his neck. 

 

“You two should know...I won’t tell anyone, but between you and me... the captain already knows you’re here.” He mused playfully. 

 

Lato stepped out of the shadows, stance wide, chin high. A child less than ten with the confidence and grace of a woman. Stoks couldn’t help but smile at her. 

 

“How do you know we are not authorized to be on the bridge, mmm?” 

 

He tapped the side of his nose playfully and walked away, waving casually. 

 

“I don’t know. Ask him.” he pointed to the shadows near the door, where Vegeta was hiding. 

 

* * *

 

Vegeta had awoken in a worse mood than when he had fallen asleep. There was a knock at the door and he ignored it. It could only be one person. There were only two people on the pod with him and one was dead asleep and had been for hours. Vegeta continued to ignore the rapid knocking, hoping eventually she would just leave. But he knew better... she never left.

He didn't want to engage her. It would only send the wrong message, make her even more persistent. But his patience and his resolve were both wearing impossibly thin. 

 

And there she was, mercilessly assaulting his door. What in the world could be so important? The sensor array feed was streaming directly to back room of the pod where he had been sleeping. They weren't in any danger and he knew that, and so did she. 

 

So what the hell did she want? 

He heard her muffled voice through the door as she pressed her lips into the seam of the frame. 

 

“Vegeta. Open up already! I need to talk to you.”

 

Before he knew what he was doing and long before she did, he had nearly ripped the door from its hinges and there was nothing between the two of them but a breath of air.

 

“What?” He hissed through gritted teeth. 

 

She looked surprised, more than that, she looked like she was going to cry. 

 

She was... frightened. 

 

Normally that would delight him, but for some reason, he found himself nauseous. He wondered if he was growing soft but quickly banished the thought and blamed Zarbon entirely.

 

He loosened his grip on the metal door, pulling his fingers from the grooves his grip had left behind. Silently he released the door and backed up, signaling for her to enter. 

 

Bulma hesitated and then slipped past him quickly before he changed his mind. She knew better than to stare at him like she was but she couldn't help it. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was red and swollen along the scratches his attacker had left behind. On top of all of that he looked simply miserable. 

 

“Well?” he sneered impatiently. 

 

“ Uh…” 

 

“Goku,” she paused thoughtfully at the name. “Goku’s machine is beeping and it won’t stop.”

 

“His fluids are done, just pull the drip, it’ll stop.”

 

“Vegeta...is he go-” 

 

“Stop your fussin’, Kakarot will be fine.” he interrupted her curtly.

 

She looked irritated now. “Why do you insist on calling him that? The only name he's ever known, the only  _ life _ he's ever known is ‘Goku’. Can't you respect him enough to call him by his name?” She muttered. 

 

“You can call him whatever you want, ain't no skin off my nose. But to me and to my crew he will be known as Kakarot. If for nothing else, to  _ respect _ the memory of his father, who died to save his son.” He mumbled to himself in a snide tone as he fiddled with the command pad on the wall of his room. “May just be a more disappointing Saiyan than even Raditz. Bardock truly deserved better.”

 

Bulma thought better than to respond. Goku had been the strongest person she had ever known until she met the saiyans...and Vegeta wasn't wrong. Even Raditz could've blasted a good ‘n ready hole right through Goku, no problem. 

 

They were well hidden for now and that's where they would stay until they were sure they had lost Frieza. The ion storm had provided excellent cover but there was no telling how long it would last. They would need to make a hasty retreat once it had cleared enough to fly or be detected. No doubt Frieza was already on their trial, however cold it was growing. 

 

Bulma stood behind Vegeta as he messed about in the ship's trajectory simulation and she waited. She felt him growing more and more tense. 

 

“Must you breathe so loud?” He growled through gritted teeth. 

 

“Oh. Forgive me, your  _ sirness _ .” Bulma spat as she began to breath with exaggerated strain through her mouth nearly snorting as she did. He scoffed and returned to ignoring her as only he could.

 

“Hmph.” She said impetuously, sitting next to him. The sudden movement and proximity startled Vegeta, who turned to her raising an eyebrow quixotically.

 

* * *

 

 

Lato woke to feel the warmth of Raditz’s arms wrapped lazily around her. She craned her neck to see the small clock on the wall, careful not to wake him. Something was wrong but it seemed as though something was always wrong. She should be used to outliers, to things that didn’t  _ quite _ go according to plan. But it always made her just as anxious. She closed her eyes, and breathed in the warmth of Raditz’s skin, wishing she could exist only in this moment for the rest of forever and for a moment she did. But like all good things it wouldn’t last. She knew that. Something deep in her gut told her that it was too good to be true. So instead she sighed, banishing the thought for now, and wiggling up, kissed his forehead gently before slipping from between his arms and lifting her clothes from where they had been strewn aside on the floor and put them on.

 

* * *

 

Nappa drummed his fingers on the old, wooden table as he stared at the  _ Fa’amailei  _ board. 

 

“You….clever bastard.” he muttered as he moved his cannon piece, with great hesitation. Then he got up, pushing the bench away as he stood and walked away from the board, as he had been doing for the past several hours. Lato watched from the entry to the kitchen. She had made no move to hide herself, but she had been there nearly half an hour and Nappa hadn’t noticed yet. 

 

He walked back into the room and feigned surprise at his own move, sitting on the other side of the board. He laughed a loud, booming laugh and slapped his knee. 

 

“Why thank you.  _ Heh heh heh _ . I am, ammed I? Face it, son. Ya beat. You can’t  _ beat me _ .” he emphasized his last two words with a jump across the river on the board by his horseman. And with that he stood, pushing the bench away and left the room. 

 

Lato couldn’t help but smile. 

 

_ Oh, Nappa. _

 

* * *

 

Vegeta stared at Bulma expectantly, just  _ waiting _ for her to leave. The two sat awkwardly across from each other. Vegeta’s and Bulma’s gazes locked on one another, it felt like she could fall right into the inky depths of his black eyes and sink forever. She wished she could be there for him but he was impossible to get close to and he liked it that way. It was infuriatingly frustrating to feel a growing friendship with the least agreeable person in the galaxy only to be constantly pushed away. At least Bulma knew that as much as Vegeta kept her at arm’s length, she was at least  _ acceptable _ now in his eyes. She’d have to be satisfied with that for now. Soon enough, she’d be back on the rogue planet, where Raditz, Lato, and Nappa would make her feel at home again.   
  
It was hard to accept that Bardock and Tschev were really gone, and Bulma started to understand that she really had no idea what it was like to lose people one by one until… she couldn’t finish the thought.

 

She closed her eyes, and leaning forward, gently pressing her forehead to his. She thought of the last time she had seen Stoks, of his tenderness, and how soothing it had felt in the midst of raw panic when he had done the same for her. Vegeta was not exactly a therapist or a friend with an open door policy, but he was all she had at the moment, and she needed all the comfort she could get.

 

Vegeta shattered her thoughts, as he pulled away, nearling falling backwards into his bunk, sputtering angrily in Saiyan at her. His face was red with shame. Finally he managed a coherent sentence. 

 

“Wh-what do you think you're doing?” When she didn't respond he continued. “This is no time for…”

 

“For what?” She asked, her voice a mix of confusion and irritation. She suddenly felt extremely vulnerable and embarrassed. 

 

Then she saw it. Something clicked in his brain and she could see it on his face. He understood she had no idea what she had done and his tension melted into a bemused smirk. He laughed darkly. 

 

“For a  _ kiss, _ Fetu _.”  _ he was laughing hysterically now, feeding off the shocked look on her face. “Don’t you know what a  _ kiss _ is?”

 

_ “A what?”  _ She shouted. “Oh no, no, no...I didn't….I mean…”

 

“You didn't know?” He mocked. “Mmm. I see…”

 

“No.” she was back in his face now, shouting. “I did  _ not _ know. We don’t kiss like that where I come from.” 

 

“Oh you don’t?” he asked disbelieving, his smug grin penetrating her confidence. 

 

But her rage was stronger. 

 

“No. Where I’m from we kiss like this.” 

 

And with that she grabbed him by the cheeks and tilting her head to the side ever so slightly, she smashed her lips against his. 

 

* * *

 

“Wake up.” Frieza boomed flatly. He was out of patience. Tired of failure, tired of impunity, tired of the Howlers evading his grasp. He was close enough to taste the wine but never to sip it. 

 

The soothsayer stirred at her captor’s yelling. Scratching her face and yawning she laughed. 

 

“Did you find what you were looking for, mmm?” 

 

“Don’t test me hag.” he spat. “Tell me how to find them.” 

 

Once again she pulled the bowl from her sleeve and carefully unwrapped the bones. Shaking and singing quietly to herself in an ancient tongue. 

 

“Interesting.” she muttered to herself. 

 

“What?” Frieza quipped, his tail whipping the air with an angry  _ crack _ . 

 

“I cannot see them. Their energy is beyond my ears and eyes.” 

 

Frieza took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and swirling his wine as he paced back and forth. “Well hag, what  _ can _ you see?” 

 

She began to mutter incoherently to herself, as if having a conversation with someone that wasn’t there. 

 

“Yes...no, yes. It may just work.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“It is risky, full of danger, as touching the divine can be. The ritual is grueling, not only for me, but for you as well. But if it works, we will find where they have been hiding. But I must warn you, Frieza….nothing has changed. My prophecy remains the same.” 

 

He didn’t need to ask, he knew exactly what she was referring to. 

 

“You will die by a saiyan’s hand.”

 

* * *

* * *

TRANSLATIONS:

 

fa’aSeiani - fa’a is  prefix that means “the way” or “in the way of”. In this case it means the Saiyan way or culturally saiyan. 

 

Badi - Yiddish for like...dude or buddy

 

Uso - sis or bro

 

Sole - dude

 

* * *

 

AN: Thanks to the lovely thegayepidemic for beta-reading for us. So sorry this chapter was so very late. As you all know we love our publishing schedule but there were some huge overhauls we made last minute and we had to go out of our way to borrow a computer to do it. 90% of the chapter is written on my phone. lolsob. 

 

Hope you enjoy my lovely lemons!


	18. The Devil

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE DEVIL**

* * *

_ White as a cottonfield and _

_ Sharp as a knife _

_ I heard him howlin’ as he passed me by _

* * *

 

All of the conditions the hag had set forth had been met with great care and precision. They had landed in the dead forest, hiking to the rocky clearing of her specifications. The stage had been set and it was nearly time for her ritual. 

 

_ This had better be worth it. _ Frieza thought as his soldiers inched the wooden slab closer and then further from the hag over and over again until she was satisfied with it’s placement. 

 

“Tell me,  _ crone- _ ” 

 

“ _ Shh _ .” she hissed as she continued to nag the soldiers about the placement of rocks, candles, foliage, and large pieces of deadwood.

 

Frieza once again fought the urge to kill her. Her impudence was intolerable at best. He imagined wrapping his tail tightly around the wrinkled skin of her throat until he could feel the thick, wet crunch of her neck snapping in his grasp.

 

“You shouldn’t think such nasty things before calling upon the power of the gods.” she chastised him. “It’s bad luck.” she whispered with a shake of her finger.

 

Frieza hated everything about her. Hated her snaggle teeth and leathery skin. He hated her milky blind eyes and twisted hands, her smug satisfaction at his reliance on her, but most of all he hated that something about the old woman had power over him. 

 

Frieza banished the thought and hummed at her, folding one arm into the other impatiently as he swirled his bloodwine. 

 

“What next,  _ seer _ ?” he said with greater deference than he had ever spoken to anyone before. It tasted bitter. He hated it. 

 

She gestured with a shaking hand towards the hard slab of stone in the very center of the clearing, branches encircled the rock and hundreds of small, yellow candles illuminated the forest as it began to grow darker. 

 

“Lay on the stone, young lord and I will reveal to you all you desire to know.”

 

* * *

 

For a moment nothing existed but the two of them. Vegeta had never felt anything quite like it. He wouldn’t even know how to describe the sensation. 

 

_ Strange. _

 

_ Foreign.  _

 

_ Awful _ .

 

_ Wonderful.  _

 

He was pulled from the lull of her tide by the beeping of the console. It said something in a computer generated voice but neither of them heard it. Vegeta pulled away, still lost in her blue, ocean tides. It was as if her eyes were calling to him, as if he could dive into them and everything else would simply melt away. He shook himself from his stupor enough to mumble awkwardly.

 

“The sh-ship-”  Vegeta started, his breath hitching in his throat. 

 

“Is set to automatically pilot to the rogue planet when the ion storm is clear.” Bulma leaned closer and whispered against his lips. 

 

She was  _ impossibly  _ warm. 

 

_ She was so close. _

Their lips brushed together, barely touching and sending the warm hum of electricity through their cheeks. It was so slow, as if time had ceased. 

 

And then it wasn’t. 

 

Neither one of them could be sure with whom it had begun, but before they knew what was happening their lips were smashed together. He leaned into her, brushing the wisps of hair from her face as he brought his hand to rest on the back of her neck and she melted into him as his hand wandered up her thigh. 

 

* * *

 

Lato watched from the doorway of the mess hall, thoroughly entertained by Nappa’s game. He would move a piece, stand, exit the room, and return once again to counter his previous move. It was possibly the most amusing thing she had ever seen. 

 

Nappa stopped, his general in his hand, seemingly frozen. Without turning to her, he spoke. His voice was dark and low. 

 

“Ya ever carried a body, Lato?” 

 

“What?” she chuckled. Lato had known Nappa nearly her whole life, and yet he never ceased to surprise her. When he didn’t continue to the punchline of whatever nonsensical joke she presumed he was telling she felt something dark slither up her spine. Nappa was  _ never _ this serious. She whispered gently from the doorway. “What do you mean Nappa?”

 

“Been carryin’ a weight round right here. Been carryin’ it for a long time now.” he balled up his fist and pounded it thoughtfully on his chest. “Weighs...weighs ‘bout as much as...well as much as my whole  _ aiga* _ and I carry it with me w’ever I go.” 

 

Lato found herself pushing her hair behind her ear as she uncrossed her arms and moved closer to him. 

 

“Nappa...I can’t say that I understand what you mean.” 

 

“Kino. Mosh. Kahdish. Ufi. Tommin. Stoks. Basil. All thems others...all thems.” Nappa tried to speak but he couldn’t bring himself to continue. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, desperation painted on his face before he pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. Lato waited but when he didn’t continue she moved to sit next to him and tentatively placed a hand on his giant arm. “I was supposed to look after all y’alls and...and look where we are now.” 

 

She heard a small whimper escape him as he crumbled to pieces.

 

“Stoks done came to me. Said he had been done some spirit walkin’ and that he seen the way out.” Nappa sighed and stared at his huge, battered hands, losing himself in their calluses and scars. “He was gonna lead us to someone who was gonna get us off this godforsaken red rock.” 

 

Nappa discretely thumbed the old photo he had kept in the waistband of his pants. 

 

“I let them go. I sent her to her death. Marchin’ to Death’s door with little more than a peashooter on her hip and I let her go.” 

 

Lato felt her stomach prickle as her heart sank. She thought of her sister and fought back the wave of tears that threatened to crash over her. She lost herself in Nappa’s voice as he continued on.

 

“Basil done had a plan to use some special rocks ‘n whatnot to build some sorta warp engine but no way she was gonna do it alone. She needed help and, well, y’know, us saiyan’s don’t really got the minds for that business.” he chuckled as he knocked his fist against the side of his head playfully. “That bein’ said ‘n all...it-it was never ‘bout the parts.” Nappa was crying openly now, tripping over his own words. “Basil never stood a snowflake's chance in Hell. She knew it, ‘Geta knew it, Stoks knew it. But he needed her to find the  _ Soesa. _ Hid her plans in the engine, kissed her belle goodbye and marched on.” 

 

Silence hung between the two saiyan’s as the freed secret sunk heavy in the air. 

 

“Warriors, the whole damn lot of ‘em. Never held a gun, never killed a man, but true saiyans true ‘n through.” 

 

Lato was completely dumbfounded. 

 

“Stoks...Stoks saw the whole thing ‘fore it happened. On account of him havin’ witchsight ‘n all. He knew it all before it came to be. He saw Basil’s death, saw his own, and he let it happen… ‘fer us.”

 

Lato didn’t know what to say, so she leaned her head on his arm and cried with him. 

Nappa almost laughed, as he whispered up at the dusty ceiling. 

 

“And every night when I go to sleep I can’t help none but think...maybe I coulda saved just  _ one  _ of ‘em….maybe…” he wiped his tears messily with his forearm. “Guess I won’t never know.”

* * *

 

Vegeta pinned Bulma to the bed, his hand clawing into the pillow beside her. The logical side of her brain had long since shut down. There were no consequences or “later on’s”. There was only this moment, right now. 

 

She reached up and hooked her finger around the bangs that had fallen, once again into his dark eyes. With a twist of her finger she pushed them from his face. 

 

Teeth tugged at corners, lips, and ears as tongues wandering across contours. They messily wove together. His rough hand slipped under the hem of her shirt. The weight of his hand slipped up her soft, milky skin to the edge of her bra. He toyed with the edge as his teeth gently nipped at her bottom lip. Something about him seemed so feral as his lip curled back and his canines raked her bottom lip. His tail wandered the length of her leg, wrapping itself around her thigh and squeezing it gently. Bulma slid her hands into his hair and pulled him closer, biting on his lip as she breathed him in. The rich scent of desert sage and sweat. It was simply intoxicating. 

 

And then the moment that could’ve lasted forever... ended.

 

The ship lurched forward as the automated landing sequence was initiated. The simple movement broke the spell and Vegeta stumbled off the bunk, eyes wide. He stood staring down at the girl, sprawled on the bed, clothes tugged this way and that.

 

_ Damn it. _ She cursed the ship, the ion storm, the whole damned thing. 

 

Without a word, he blinked at her blankly and strode out of the room. 

 

* * *

 

Frieza was more than  _ just _ a gifted fighter, he was a mutant of prodigious proportions and everyone knew it. With the wave of his hand he had felled worlds, enslaved millions, and reduced ancient cultures to dust. Merely a child by the standards of his race, he was a lord of countless galaxies and quadrants, all by the power of his own hands. 

 

Nothing had ever rivalled him, nothing had scared him. 

 

Nothing had even come close. 

 

He had never known such pain and raw, unadulterated panic as he did laying on the cold stone in the dark of night. He was paralyzed, frozen in pain and in panic as images penetrated his mind like shards of glass, violently and suddenly thrust into his brain. 

 

_ The Howler prince’s lifeless body, milky eyes, crushed beneath his feet. Laughter. Hands grasped at the air desperately groping. Fear. A soft glowing orb that held four floating stars. The fabled dragon. Blood. Heads of Howlers piled high, blood dribbling from face to face.  _

 

His body convulsed uncontrollably against the frozen stone. It felt as though his skin had slowly been flayed from his flesh and then layed gently over the raw nerves. 

 

For the first time in Frieza’s life he feared he would die. 

 

* * *

 

Raditz stumbled sleepily from his room. He may have been dead asleep but he had heard the shuttle land and the chatter of the arrival of the team. Part of him was nervous to see his father again, possibly more nervous than he was at the prospect of meeting his brother for the first time. The last words spoken between the two were words of bitterness and anger, not that that was nothing special. They were fighting more than they were getting along, especially nowadays. But Raditz had hoped beyond hope that having Kakarot around would change some of that, if only just a little.

 

He tried not to think none about it as he stumbled through the hallways, pulling his hair back.  

 

Something in his mind broke, two ends that could not connect. His heart sank and his knees buckled at the sight of their arrival.

 

There they were; dirty, exhausted, and battered. Three saiyans...not five. 

  
  
  


* * *

Goku had recovered remarkably fast, but that had come to be expected from the saiyans. Once they had arrived back at the ship Vegeta had hidden himself away in preparation for the funeral service. Bulma couldn’t help but notice he had gone out of his way to ignore her existence completely, not looking at her, addressing her, or allowing himself near her for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

 

Now it was finally time and the saiyans and Bulma stood in a line in front of the wall of artifacts. Goku stood behind Bulma, looking more and more like a lost puppy as Vegeta began his address. He paused, his eyes meeting Bulma’s for a just a moment before they wandered to Goku, where they narrowed. 

 

Bulma cleared her throat awkwardly and tucked her hair behind her ears. 

 

“Uh...Goku?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“You need to wait outside.” Bulma leaned in closer “I will explain everything later, I promise.” 

 

“Oh...yeah...okay.” 

 

And with that Goku waved awkwardly and gave a thumbs up to the group that stared awkwardly back at him. He backed out of the room, watching from the doorway as Vegeta held out his hands - a cigarette tin in one hand and a small knife in the other. He watched as they took turns speaking in Saiyan. First Vegeta, then Bulma, then Lato, then Vegeta again. It was all so confusing. Goku found it both boring and fascinating to watch as they conducted their ceremony.

 

Vegeta had laid the artifacts to rest on the wall and turned back to his crew. 

 

“Today we have lost two of the greatest warriors our race has ever known. Lost to the ashes of our histories. Legends, smutchies, saiyans. They lived as saiyans, fought as saiyans and died as saiyans. Though lost, there is one thing a saiyan always keeps!” 

 

“His pride!” came the rallying cry from the crew. 

 

* * *

Raditz passed the two in the hallway and watched for a time as  _ Fetu _ tried to teach the saiyan how to be a saiyan. He chuckled to himself. It really was uncanny how much Kakarot looked like Bardock. Something twisted in his chest and made his ribs ache.

 

_ Dad _ .

“...and  _ this _ is the mess hall.” Bulma said, gesturing Goku to enter. He peeked his head inside.

 

“Gee, Bulma, doesn’t seem like too much of a mess to me…” he replied.

 

“Ugh, Goku! That’s what you call where you eat! It’s like a dining room!” Bulma was at her wits end. It’s not like the terminology of the various rooms and sections of the ship was really any different than the Capsule, and yet Goku didn’t remember any of it. Perhaps he never knew it in the first place. She thought it’d be fun to spend some time with Goku, take him around the ship and show him the place, but Bulma had work to do on the engines and here she was wasting time teaching vocabulary.

 

“Awesome! I’m starving!” Goku declared, sauntering in. “...uh, Bulma. There’s no food in here. Just a big guy and a lady.”

 

Bulma giggled. “Oh, that’s just Nappa and Lato.” Bulma replied. “ _ Ua a _ ?*” she addressed the two of them.

 

“Did he eat all the food…?” Goku whispered, pointing gingerly at Nappa while crouching as if to hide behind Bulma’s shoulders.   
  
“Damnit, Goku! No...” Bulma yelled. “It’s not mealtime right now. If you want to eat the kitchen is in there, help yourself.”

 

Goku stopped for a moment and sighed. Bulma was taken aback at the pause. Goku never hesitated at the offer of food. 

 

“Bulma I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know how to be a saiyan. I’m...I’m not a saiyan. I’m just... _ me _ .” he looked at her desperately, his eyebrows knit together in concern. He felt a slap on his back and turned to see Raditz, hands on his hips and a goofy grin on his face.

 

“Now don’t you be fussin’ none Kakarot. I’ll teach ya all there is to know ‘bout bein’ a saiyan, dontcha worry.” Raditz beamed at his younger brother as he quick drew his firearm and spun it in the air.

 

Goku was positively dazzled. The rest of the crew, not so much.  

 

“Raditz there ain’t no quick draw though. Not anywhere near fastest guns. He ain’t no quick  _ nothin’ _ . Maybe fastest feet in the west.” Nappa laughed, as he straddled the bench next to Bulma. “He can run faster than a two-peckered, six-legged horse with wings.” Nappa boomed as he laughed uproariously at his own joke. 

 

Next to nothing could’ve taken the wind from Raditz’s sails faster than that. He fought the twitch in his eye as he spun to face Nappa. Raditz took it in stride, feeling Lato’s eyes on him, he was careful not to make eye contact with her, fearing his resolve would crumble. Instead he straightened himself and took a deep breath. 

 

“Oh don’t give me no bellyachin’. I’m tryin’ okay? It’s not like  _ he’ll  _ train with me. ‘Sides, I’m a pretty good shot myself, Nappa.”

 

“Who?” Bulma asked, only half listening to the saiyans argue as she pulled wiring of the scouter out, setting them delicately on the cloth she was working on. 

 

“The captain here is the best sharpshooter ya done ever sawed.” Nappa motioned behind him to the kitchen and Bulma looked up to see Vegeta, sleepily walking barefoot towards the hallway, a pail of water in one hand and a leg of some animal precariously balanced in his other. He shot Nappa a tired, disinterested look and managed a “ _ mmm _ ” before continuing on out the messhall and down the hall, mumbling a ‘ _ tulou’  _ as he slid between the three of them standing by the doorway. Bulma fought the urge to giggle. 

 

“But Raditz...” Nappa laughed again, slamming his fist on the table. 

 

Raditz holstered his gun and turned to face Nappa, his lips pressed in a thin line. It was very clear to everyone that he was not enjoying himself nearly as much as Nappa was. 

 

“Listen here, mossy. I may not be much of a shot but I’m faster than you. Bet I can catch lead at twenty yards flat, no spit an’ a lie.” 

 

Nappa stood, pushing the bench out from under the table and Bulma along with it. He took a step forward, towering over Raditz and nearly smashing Bulma between the two of them. 

 

“You fixin’ to fight, boy?” 

 

“What if I am?” 

 

Bulma sighed, wiggling from between the two large men.

 

“Why does it really matter?” she grumbled in a sing-song tone. She mumbled to herself awkwardly and redirected the conversation. “Hey Goku, don’t you want to… Goku?”

 

“Hehe, Kakarot sure is a saiyan, even if he don’t know what that means.” Nappa chortled. “Care for a game?” He waved his hand across the  _ Fa’amailei  _ board.

 

“Excuse me, Nappa, we’re not done yet.” Lato replied, calmly.

 

“Sure we are.” Nappa said, without turning back to the board. “It’s my turn, just advance my Cannon one space so it’s in range of your General.”

 

Lato did so.

 

“I’ll capture it with my captain, then.” Lato said.

 

“Mm, No good. It’ll expose your General to my sniper. See it?”

 

There was a poignant pause.

“Well played, Nappa.”

 

“I know.” He said with a smile. “So, Fetu, how’s about it?”

 

Bulma hesitated before the sound of crashing dishes and a squealing Goku erupted from the kitchen. “Sure Naps.” Bulma said with a sigh. “I could use the distraction.”

 

It went about the same as any game with Nappa. He made all sorts of moves that appeared questionable and right as Bulma was about to cinch her trap shut he moved some minor piece that seemed to just be incidental, starting a domino-effect like wave of moves until the board couldn’t have been more in Nappa’s favor. Goku had come back about halfway through carrying  a bowl of food. He watched intently as he chewed - loudly - on a series of fried limbs of some animal that at some point may have resembled a chicken (and tasted like it too - as he contentedly pointed out several times).

 

“Gee, Bulma. I’m not sure, but that didn’t seem to end well for  _ you _ .” he said, before taking an obnoxious bite, finishing off his last piece. She turned her head slowly to face him, the scowl etched in her features threatening to obliterate the target of her rage.

 

“Thank you, for that update, Goku...” she said. “...and since  _ you’re _ such an expert, why don’t you show us all the proper way to play  _ Fa’amailei….”  _ she said, resetting the board with a ferocity that was entirely unnecessary.   
  
Goku wasn’t sure, but she was muttering something in a strange language under her breath as she set up the board. He thought he heard something like ‘ _ Fiapoto’ _ or something like that.

 

“Nappa might not be the best opponent for someone’s first game…” Lato offered. “Why don’t I play Kakarot instead.”

 

“Ah, come on.” Nappa said. “I can go easy on ‘im. We could play Warlord style!”   
  
“There’s an idea…” Lato said.   
  
“What’s  _ warlord  _ style?” Bulma asked.   
  
“Well, Nappa plays without a general and loses when all his pieces are captured instead of losing when his general is captured. Goku’s general becomes a ‘Warlord’, and can make two moves a turn instead of one. It’s like a challenge to be able to beat someone who’s playing as a warlord, it’s basically impossible against anyone even remotely familiar with the game.”   
  
“So what you’re saying is…” Goku started. “My little guy here gets really strong, and it’s like a challenge for Nappa to beat me? Sounds fun!”   
  
“ _ Wooee _ !” Nappa hollered. “Let’s get it on!”

 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take Goku long to get the hang of the rules and how the various pieces moved. He seemed to have a knack for this sort of thing just like the rest of the saiyans seemed to. Once they started, the game itself was remarkably quick, and Bulma’s jaw was as agape as Lato’s eyes were wide when Nappa moved his specialist and captured Goku’s warlord piece.

 

“Bu- how did you do that?” Bulma asked.   
  
“Oh, ‘tweren’t nothin’ too fancy.” Nappa said. “But since ya asked. See, I knew Kakarot would be throwin’ around his Warlord right quick and in a hurry, seein’ as how it’s basically unmatched. Without my General, my Captain’s my best piece, and I knows he was gonna come after ‘im. So I just had to distract him a bit with my Cannon there, you know, give him an enticin’ enough target, make him jus’ take that one extra move so’s I can get my Cap in place. Shame to see that Cannon go, Cannons is my favorites. Anyway, keepin’ Kakarot focused on my strong pieces - the Captain, the Cannon and whatnot, he didn’t even bother to look at my poor lonely specialist sittin’ all alone there. He never saw it comin’. He took my Captain, thinkin’ there was nothing left what could pose a threat, and, well. Y’all saw what happened.”   
  
“You know, this game isn’t all that fun” Goku said.   
  
“Yeah, they all say that after playin’ me” Nappa laughed.

  
“No, I mean… it’s not like really fighting.” Goku continued. “I mean, they all have like, fighting names, but there’s no fighting. It’s kind of boring. I think I’d rather find someone real who’s strong, that’d be more fun.   
  
“Well, Kakarot.” Lato said, patting him on the shoulder. “You came to the right place.”

 

* * *

 

“What did you see young lord?” a hint of a smile in the old crone’s voice.

 

Frieza ignored her, standing from the slab and straightening himself, poised and perfect. 

 

“Commander. Ready my fleet. I have seen the prize that I seek and it shall be sweeter than I could have possibly imagined.” 

  
  


* * *

* * *

Translations:

 

Ua a? - What’s up

Aiga - family

 

* * *

 

AN: Thanks for the patience and wonderful comments, my dears! A little late this week but not as bad as last week, I suppose. Thanks again to thegayepidemic for beta-reading for us! 

 

As always, 

 

Much love. 

 

\- Mo


	19. Chapter Seventeen: Fire

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: FIRE**

* * *

_ Ghosts and devils come a’ calling _

_ Calling my name out, lost in the fire _

* * *

* * *

  
  
  
  


Bulma had barely slept since they had arrived home and when she did it had been in the engine room, furiously trying to repair the hollowed out machine as fast as she could. She hadn't stepped foot in her own room, or the showers for that matter, since before they had left...since Bardock and Tschev had-

 

She stood in front of Bardock’s door trying not to think of how quickly she was making a nasty habit of sticking her nose in places it didn't belong. What would Raditz say? What would  _ Vegeta _ say? She should go.

 

But she had never been particularly good at that. She thumbed the necklace Stoks had given her moments before he died. Oh, Stoks. Now Tschev and Bardock too. As she thought of the other crew members the same question kept repeating in her mind again and again.

 

_ How many more of her people had to die before they were free?  _

 

Without another thought she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The smell of smoke permeated the very air and drenched everything in its warmth. It smelled like home. 

 

Humble living didn't seem to quite cover it. He had less in his room than Stoks had had in his. Just a cot with a blanket, some sort of ceramic vase full of cigarette butts, and a small pile of laundry. She cinched Stoks's shirt tighter around her waist and padded carefully forward as if something would jump out from under his cot and bite her. 

 

She sat down on the cot, letting it swing gently under her weight. On the floor, halfway to the pile of laundry was his bandana, still tied in a knot, as if he had slid it off his head and cast it aside. She had never seen him take it off, hadn't noticed he hadn't been wearing it on the away mission. She wondered why, she guessed she would never know. One sleepless night he had told it's story. Told her of his team, of Frieza and Dodoria, and of Toma. It was possibly his most sacred possession and here it was. Cast aside carelessly.

 

She gingerly picked it up off the ground and slid it over her head pushing the hair from her eyes with it and twisting it until the knotted end stuck upright in the air. 

 

She let the tears fall as she collapsed into exhausted tears. She told herself it was the long, sleepless nights filled with work, but she knew it was so much more than that. The skin prickled on the back of her neck. Someone was watching her. 

 

Vegeta stood in the doorway looking down on her. She opened her mouth to speak but he held up his hand dismissively. 

 

“You should sleep.” 

 

And with that he was gone. 

 

* * *

 

Frieza paced the floor impatiently, his tail slashing at the air behind him, hands clasped behind his back. Delay after delay. How long before the saiyans had slipped through his grasp again? 

 

The two generals kneeled before him, bloodied, bruised, and still drenched in melting snow. 

 

“Are you aware that I have spent nearly a decade and  _ a half _ in pursuit of the Howler Prince?” 

 

“Yes, my lord.” the first general said, bowing his head deeply and avoiding eye contact with Frieza.

 

“And are you aware that, in the past year, they have destroyed more than  _ twenty _ command bases?” 

 

“Yes, my lord.” the second general echoed. 

 

“Fascinating.” Frieza chuckled. “That a simple barrel of monkeys could cause so much trouble...” they could hear his teeth grind as he mused, his fury palpable. 

 

For a while, he paced back and forth in silent, tossing and catching something again and again.

 

“Tell me, General Barl…” the general winced at the sound of his name. “What gave you the brilliant idea to slaughter both saiyan intruders, the  _ only _ ones in this  _ entire universe _ who can tell me where the Howler Prince is hiding, without express orders and before  _ I _ , your lord commander, had the opportunity to interrogate them...hmmm?” 

 

The general hummed and hawed, muttering quietly until Frieza’s tail cracked in the air. Frieza laughed darkly. The general bowed his head, making no move to hide his shaking from his master. He heard something drop to the floor with a heavy  _ thunk _ and roll. He opened his eyes to see the empty eyes of the saiyan female staring as if to laugh at him from beyond the grave. 

 

It was the head, the head they had taken. Now they would pay in turn for the lives they had not a right to take from Lord Frieza.

 

* * *

 

Bulma ran her hands through her wet, clean hair. It felt like the water had beat years of dust and ache from her body, like a filthy rug. She felt clean for the first time in forever. Throwing herself on the cot, she immediately shot back upwards as something poked her in the small of her back. 

 

She pulled it from behind her. It was the book she had found in the engine. Basil's book. It was wrapped in the same cord with a light yellow rock hanging from it, and a paper stuffed in between the cord and the book, as if it had been an afterthought. 

 

She unwrapped it carefully and pulled the crumpled, stained note free.

 

_ Never asked if ya could read saiyan. Hope ya can. Basil left this for ya. She got big plans for this little ship. Seems she knew all along you was gonna be the one to make ‘er fly again. _

 

_ Do right by her. _

 

_ -Tisevi  _

 

Bulma once again found herself with tears in her eyes as she slid the braided leather over her head and let the rock hang next to Stoks's medallion. She unwrapped his shirt from her waist and put it on, bunching the extra fabric in her hands. She fell asleep to the warm, spice of the fabric and the smell of ancient smoke. 

 

* * *

The commander stood at the window looking out at the vastness of space and his ship docked in orbit at Lord Frieza’s fleet flagship. Truly an imposing vessel, it could dwarf planets and carry untold ranks of soldiers.

 

He pulled at the soft fabric of his collar, adjusting his pips. His ceremonial robes were quite comfortable but he preferred armor. At ease in the command chair or on the battlefield but rather uncomfortable at political events. 

 

“Commander Bala, what a pleasure to see you here tonight. Come, sit with me. Let us dine together.” Frieza mused as he gestured to the seat next to him, swirling his glass of bloodwine thoughtfully. The alien obliged, more out of amusement than anything. Frieza was always up to something it would just be a matter of finding out what. Commander Bala was tall and thin, a great warrior of his people. His third eye squinted in curiosity as he swept away the hem of his delicate silk robes and walked across the room to his host.

 

Guests prattled on quietly around them, dining and drinking in celebration of the new alliance. 

 

“Commander Bala I must say. You have had quite the extensive military career, most impressive. I commend you.” Frieza lifted his glass and nodded. 

 

“Thank you, my lord.” Bala nodded gracefully as he lifted his glass in return.

 

“Now, if I understand, your home planet is located in the third quadrant, is that correct?” Frieza dusted the corner of the table, switching his crossed legs and leaning heavily into the arm of his velvet chair. 

 

Lord Bala smoothed the sleeves of his robe and nodded gracefully. 

 

“Ah. I see.” Frieza smiled. “So surely you have heard of the Howlers, yes?” Frieza relished in the quick flash of anger that rose in Bala’s face before the man breathed deeply and regained control of the carefully crafted mask of his face.

 

“Yes, Lord Frieza.”

 

“I understand they were quite...troublesome.” Frieza purred. 

 

“That is one word.” Commander Bala laughed as the servant girl filled his glass and scurried off, head down. “A terror is more like it. My people are still in the process of rebuilding from their initial invasion of our planet twenty years ago. Our population was decimated to near extinction.” 

 

“Oh?” Frieza giggled. 

 

“They were more than simple pests, my lord. They ravaged entire worlds for no reason other than the thrill of bloodshed, leaving empty husks of planets behind with millions of corpses to rot in the sun. They were the truest, basest form of barbarism my people have ever encountered. Cruel, torturous monsters.” 

 

“So surely you are aware that they are no more?” Frieza said in feigned innocence, as if he were presenting his guest with excellent news and not speaking of something that had happened nearly three years prior.

 

“Yes, Lord Frieza. It came as both a great shock as a relief to my people. Our fight against the saiyans was the most extensive military campaign in the history of the third quadrant.”

 

“Hmm.” Frieza held out his empty glass and immediately a servant clambored across the floor to fill it. “Correct me if I’m wrong. But you were the one who launched the military offensive against the saiyans before I enslaved them, were you not?” 

 

“You are correct, Lord Frieza, and no one despises those barbaric beasts more than I. On my home planet we celebrate the anniversary of their destruction every year.” 

 

“Mmm. Yes, quite understandable. Your daughter died at the hands of a saiyan, did she not?” Frieza mused as he looked out the large beveled glass at the light of the stars outside. 

 

The alien paused, glass to his lips. He swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to swallow the painful memory. “Yes.” the word barely escaped his lips. He took a deep swig of his drink and set it down, clasping his hands together. 

 

Frieza lifted his hand nonchalantly and a servant at the door nodded, opening it. 

 

A young boy walked into the room with an air of command, his wild dark hair tumbling down into his eyes. He was small and thin, barely more than a whisper of a thing. He wore dress armour, a saber at his side, and a large scarlet red cloth that was draped over his shoulder and head like a cloak and hung down his back. A metal pin of the royal symbol of his house pinned the fabric together, keeping it from spilling off his shoulders all together.

 

“You summoned me Lord Frieza?” the child knelt, removing his hood, his fist held to his chest as he bowed to his oppressor.

 

Commander Bala’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide as they trailed from the small saiyan boy to Frieza. 

 

“Frieza I thought you said the saiyans were dead.” 

 

“Mmm. Yes. Quite. As it should be, Bala. But...I simply couldn’t resist...I kept this one as a pet.” 

 

The boy flinched at the words, it was so subtle Bala almost missed it. The small child kept his head bowed, eyes trained on his feet. 

 

“Tell Commander Bala your name, my child.” Frieza leaned forward, tapping the arm of the chair giddily, clearly struggling to contain his excitement.

 

“My name is Vegeta, captain and commander of the third rank and Prince of the Saiyan people.” 

 

Bala nearly spit his wine back into the glass as he leaned forward, wide eyed. He turned to Frieza lifting his eyebrows in genuine shock at the revelation. 

 

“You see Commander, as a sign of good faith and to celebrate the new alliance between the Azkan people and the Planetary Trade Organization, and more over the Cold Empire, I would like to offer you a gift.” Time seemed to stand still as Frieza savored the moment. “You may have him to do with what you will for the rest of the evening. I will send for someone to retrieve him in the morning. I only ask that you do not kill him, I have grown quite fond of him and have found great entertainment with him.” Frieza lifted his glass to his lips, smiling as he relished in the look of horror in the child’s eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Raditz stood outside the door and took a deep breath. 

 

_ Just knock. What’s the worst that could happen? _ He thought. 

 

His knuckles rapped against the door and he stood waiting. He could hear someone moving around inside. Goku opened the door and his face lit up at the sight of Raditz. 

 

“Hey!” 

 

“Shhh.” Raditz hissed, which turned into a chuckle. “Oi, you’re so loud  _ uso _ .”

 

Goku’s eyes widened as he whispered loudly “Oh. Sorry.” 

 

Raditz couldn’t help but chuckle, Goku reminded him so much of their mother. Something in him ached that Bardock never had the chance to meet him. He pushed the thought aside and clasped his brother on the shoulder. 

 

“You ready?” 

 

“Yep!” Goku nearly jumped with excitement. 

 

“Well, let’s go.” 

 

And with that they headed out into the night, guns loaded and hands wrapped.

 

* * *

 

“Come now Commander. No need to wait.” Frieza gestured at the servants waiting at the side door that led to the service hallways and the kitchens, they looked on at the saiyan child with pity as they held to the bundles of instruments and weapons they had been instructed to hold. The two slaves walked forward, laying the bundles at the Commander’s feet and bowing low before leaving. The blue-haired woman’s eyes caught the child’s for the briefest of glances before he snapped his eyes away and back to Frieza. She thumbed the medallion around her neck and said a silent prayer for him, hoping he would survive whatever cruelty that was about to come his way. She stood for a moment and stared at the boy, tears welling up in her crystal blue eyes. 

 

Something was very wrong, she didn’t belong here. Before the boy had the chance to question it further, the sound of his master’s voice cut through his thoughts.

 

Frieza swirled his wine and continued with a sinister grin. “After all, ample entertainment for our guests  _ would  _ be appropriate in celebrating such a joyous occasion, do you not agree?” 

 

“Completely, Lord Frieza.” the commander shifted nervously in his seat as he stared at the boy with bloodthirsty eyes. 

 

“Why Commander…” Frieza giggled, “You look nervous.” 

 

Bala struggled to find the right words, scrambling to save face. “Well, with all due respect, my lord. There are quite a lot of guests here and I would not want to make a scene if-” 

 

“ _ Oh _ I see. Worried about his strength? He is a captain after all and it would be quite embarrassing for such a small child to overpower such a respected commander. I can see why you would worry.” Frieza sighed dramatically, resting his face in his hand and drumming his cheek with his index finger. “He is a clever little monkey, I’ll give him that. But he is no match for you. The best his people had to offer, sadly.”

 

The commander did not look convinced. 

 

“You really needn’t worry commander Bala, the child is a good pet and will not resist any punishment you feel appropriate. Isn’t that right, my soldier?” 

 

Frieza saw it in his eyes, meeting it with a subtle shake of his head. The boy’s head slumped in defeat, banishing the foolish thought of resistance. 

 

“Of course, my lord.” he bowed once again, his eyes still locked with the blue-haired intruder as she looked down at him, watching the servants strip him of his armor and bind his hands.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta shot upwards, a prickling wave of nausea rolled over him and he thought he was going to be sick. He threw the sheet off of himself and stood beneath the small air vent at the corner of the ceiling. 

 

_ She didn’t belong there. She never belonged there. Why was she haunting him? _

 

He banished his thoughts as he pulled his boots on and headed out into the desert storm, wrapping his hands as he went.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Bulma was late to breakfast, as she had been to every meal since they arrived. And they had waited, no saiyan ate without the others present...with the exception of Vegeta. He rarely ate with the others. Come to think of it, Bulma had barely seen him at all since their arrival back home. He was probably off somewhere training near to the point of death. And who would save him this time? Tear him open and stitch him up inside now that Tschev was gone? She was lost in the deep swirl her of her own dark thoughts and she couldn’t help but think of Vegeta, laying dead somewhere in the dark of night, dust slowly covering him until he was gone entirely.

 

Numbly she grabbed from the hodge-podge of food left on the table amongst the dirty hands that grabbed at biscuits and dried cuts of meat. Less hands than before. 

 

It wasn't fair. They had been there and now they were just...gone. She thought of the wall and she could barely articulate it. How could they stand to carry on like this, in dwindling numbers, with next to no hope. They had nothing left to fight for and yet they fought. Was it this _saiyan_ _pride_ that Vegeta was always on about? Or was it something else? Maybe they didn’t have the same silly attachments as humans did. Maybe they had lost so many people that they had learned how to walk, to talk, to eat, and sleep when the world felt like it would collapse around them. She had no idea.

 

“Okay Kakarot.” Nappa boomed as he cracked his knuckles. His voice jerked Bulma from her own mind and she stared up at him. He stood and pushed himself away from the table, shoving the whole bench with him and pulling Lato and Bulma away from the table with it. “Let’s see what ya can do.” he chuckled.

 

Goku beamed, shooting upright and saluting at Nappa with two fingers, and with a chuckle he bounded out of the room and into the dark morning.

 

* * *

 

The tall man kneeled as Frieza entered the room, his third eye closed and the long sleeves of his robes tucked neatly in his lap.

 

“Admiral Bala, thank you for joining me on such short notice. Your loyalty has not gone unnoticed. Congratulations on your promotion, it is well deserved. Do not disappoint me.”

 

“Of course, Lord Frieza, it is my distinct pleasure.”

 

* * *

 

Raditz was nervous. He’d sparred with Kakarot and the results were...not inspiring. Given Bulma’s demonstration all those weeks ago when they were competing for a biscuit, he had no doubt that Kakarot was clearly a cut above a typical earthling. Bulma had explained however that from what she had learned from the computers, that ‘Earth’ had substantially weaker gravity than Planet Vegeta had, and thus Kakarot had essentially been babied his whole life. He’d tried to teach Kakarot what he could, and Kakarot was a humble and willing student. But there was only so much you could learn in such a short time.   
  
Now, Kakarot was going to square off against Nappa. May whatever God Stoks had said existed have mercy on him.   
  
“Don’t hold back now,” Kakarot was saying. “Raditz says you’re even stronger than he is! I can’t wait to see that…”   
  
“Hehehe...so,” Nappa said. “Raditz says I’m  _ even _ stronger than he is, eh? Well, he’s not wrong… attack me whenever you’re ready, Kakarot.”   
  
“Hmph!” Kakarot replied, and he disappeared.   
  
At least, Raditz was pretty sure that was the effect he was going for. Again, he was probably pretty fast by earthling standards. Raditz’s face found its way into his palm as Kakarot darted off to the side, then tried to launch himself at Nappa from behind, only to meet Nappa’s great fist in his gut.   
  
Kakarot teetered for a few seconds before tottering onto the ground.   
  
“A-, uh...wow” he managed, spitting a bit of blood from his mouth. “Saw that coming, eh?” 

 

“Ooooooh boy.” Nappa let out a sigh. “Cap ain’t gonna be none to pleased ‘bout this. I ah-spected he’d need to be whipped inta shape, but shoot-dang. That the best you can do, Kakarot?”   
  
“N...No….” he said, managing to get to his feet. “Well...m-maybe.”    
  
“Just….try again then. I hope you take more’n one hit this time.” Nappa said.   
  
“Hehe… just you wait!” came the reply.   
  
He charged straight in the second time, nothing tricky or fancy. Nappa met him head on and they exchanged swings for a few seconds before Nappa landed a combo of a few punches to Kakarot’s face before sending him flying with a kick.   
  
“Eh, a little better...I guess.” Nappa said. “We’ll need to work on that…” he looked at Raditz, and the two exchanged a nod. They seemed to both understand that it wasn’t looking to good, but without Tschev and Bardock, every little bit helped, so they might as well see what they could do with making Kakarot less of a liability.

 

“Don’t worry,  _ uso _ .” Raditz said, walking over to Kakarot and helping him to his feet. “If Nappa can even make a passable warrior out of Fetu, then I’m sure you’ll realize your saiyan potential in no-time.”

  
“Uh…” he moaned, holding his side. “Yeah, dang. You guys are something else. Ahhhh, yeah. This is gonna be good….” One of his eyes was half-closed and he had that same goofy smile he seemed to carry everywhere.   
  
If nothing else, at least Kakarot was optimistic. Raditz and Nappa both knew the crew needed more of that, at least.   
  
“Just sit and watch for sec, okay?” Raditz offered, as he helped Kakarot to the wall, where he could rest his back. “Given how Fetu was when she first came to us, I think you’ll be impressed….” He turned to Bulma and Nappa, and nodded.   
  
Bulma smiled as Nappa swung his arms in circles, loosening up his shoulders.   
  
“Hey, do you mind if-” Bulma started.   
  
“Yeah yeah, go ahead.” Nappa said. “Not your fault you can’t use ki, might as well use something…”   
  
“Thanks.” Bulma responded. “Don’t be sorry for it though…” She warned.   
  
Goku, for his part, was thoroughly confused, but was content to watch whatever was about to happen unfold.

 

Bulma dropped to the ground, throwing her arms above her and landing on her palms, and as Nappa’s arm swung at her, cutting through the air she sprung off the balls of her feet and pulled the phaser free from its holster, aiming it between his eyes. She fired to stun and dropped once again, sweeping her leg as Nappa stumbled backwards, knocking him on his back. 

 

Raditz was the first to break the silence, whistling and clapping slowly as he chuckled. 

 

“E*!  _ Fetu _ !”   
  
Bulma stood up to her full, intimidating height of not-quite five-and-a-half feet, smiling broadly and making a show of blowing the non-existent smoke from the barrel of her weapon, before twirling it and returning it to its holster.   
  
“I know, gorgeous, brilliant,  _ and  _ deadly. I am a triple threat. A perfect ten. A-”

 

Her gloating was cut short by Nappa, driving his shoulder into her back with great force. Well, to Bulma it was great force. To Nappa, he was treating her daintily.   
  
Raditz’s eyes widened as he froze, his hands stopped in the air, mid-clap.   
  
“Hehehe, don’t get too full’o yerself, Fetu. I wasn’t gonna say nothin’, but I’m still goin’ mighty easy on ya’.” He sniffed mightily as he finished taunting her, his nose red and runny from where the energy beam from Bulma’s phaser had struck his face. “That pea-shooter o’ yours sure stings sumthin’ fierce.” He complained.   
  
Raditz let out a belly laugh as Bulma regained her feet and stomped back towards Nappa.   
  
“You big bully!” She said, her finger out, her face a visage of incoming reprimand. “How dare you treat a lady like that!” She yelled.   
  
Both Nappa’s and Raditz’s mirth left as quickly as it arrived before the onslaught of Bulma’s fierce wrath.    
  
“Come down here already, you oaf!” she continued. Nappa sat obediently.   
  
Bulma smiled.   
  
“...and that, boys, is true power.” Bulma said, with a wink. “Take note, even the biggest muscles can be tamed by a powerful woman, and you can take that lesson to heart!”

 

* * *

 

Bulma needed a break. She dipped her tin in the bucket of water she kept beside the engine and drank it down in two gulps. She leaned against the engine, chewing on her dirty nails nervously. She slid down the side and propped her tired feet up on a spare cylinder that sat strewn among the other parts on the floor. 

 

She pulled the small book from her coveralls and thumbed through it again. She had read it nearly a hundred times and still, there was something she couldn’t quite decode. She had already laid out the parts in Basil’s new design and the engine, with new specifications were nearly complete but the engine was not ready for warp speed, not by a long stretch. 

 

She toyed with the rock as she read the book for the hundred and fifth time. 

 

And then it hit her. 

 

* * *

 

Vegeta sat slumped in the captain’s chair, his foot resting lazily on the console as he the chair swiveled, ever so slightly, back and forth. He rubbed his swollen knuckles with his other hand cursing himself for losing control of his ki. The entire room was covered in red dust. He sat in the dark, brooding, thinking, whatever he was doing he did not want to be disturbed. And yet there she was, blabbering on about some sort of shift in the engine specifications. His gaze could’ve melted holes through the hull where he was staring as he chewed broodingly on the nail of his thumb and listened to Bulma drone on about warp technology. 

 

She wasn’t sure he was listening to her, in fact, she was quite sure he wasn’t. She held out the rock on a string towards him, telling him about her amazing discovery and he looked as if he couldn’t have cared less. 

 

He was so rude.

 

“-so, in short, that’s why I think the warp engine will work. If it does,” she emphasized the words with brimming excitement, “Frieza would never be able to catch us.” 

 

She jumped as his feet dropped from the console and slammed on the ground. 

 

“No.” 

 

“Wha-” 

 

“I said  _ no _ . Don’t waste your time. Get the ship in the air and we will take the fight  _ to _ Frieza.” he muttered distantly, venom dripping from his voice. 

 

“Why not?” she was screaming now. “Well?” She didn’t mean to but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Why the  _ hell _ not Vegeta? Would it kill you?” 

 

He was standing now, their noses nearly touching and she fought the urge to recoil.

 

“I would sell my soul to kill Frieza. I would steal, kill, and die.” he growled, soft and low. “But what I will  _ not _ do, is abandon my saiyan pride and run away like a child. I have spent my entire life running and I will run no more!” 

 

Before she could speak he had stormed from the bridge and she found herself alone. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Let this be a lesson to you.” Frieza’s voice echoed over the army of soldiers. His newly appointed generals stepped forward, each holding a head, they shoved them down onto the sharp spikes that stood in front of the platform. “Impunity will not be tolerated any longer. We will  _ find _ these Howlers and we will bring them to justice!” 

 

The hundreds of rows of soldiers echoed rallying battle cries in unison. 

 

“Excellent.” he muttered darkly to himself before turning towards the flagship of his fleet. “Let’s go then.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

AN: Sorry for the delays everyone! I worked nearly two weeks in a row on graves and it about killed me. Anywho. Hope you enjoy! We are currently trying to get ahead so we can get back to a regular publishing schedule again. We appreciate you guys so much! Especially our lovely thegayepidemic for beta-reading!

  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter Eighteen: Can't Go Back

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CAN'T GO BACK**

* * *

_ Somethings you can't go back to _

_ Somethings need left alone  _

_ Don't mess with the memories of a life passed on  _

  
  


* * *

* * *

 

Bulma was tired, but, more than tired, more than exhausted and irritated and hungry, she was  _ almost  _ done. 

 

At least she was pretty sure she was. She just had to place the mount back on the reuptake inhibitor and she would be done. But she didn't have the strength or stature to do so. It would have to wait until the others were awake.

 

Nappa, specifically.

 

She could scarcely believe it. She had done it, and in record time too. It had only taken her nine days to complete the engine. Oh, and there was one breached hull plate to repair and the ship would be spaceworthy. 

 

She threw off the gloves she had found in the engine and slid Bardock's bandana up, pushing the hair from her eyes. Throwing out her hip and resting her hand on Tschev’s pistol, she looked over her handiwork. 

 

_ Not too shabby.   _ She smirked. 

 

For a time Bulma wandered through the ship, as she always did when she was restless. Running her hand along the walls and letting her mind wander this way and that. 

 

She really did love this old ship, and she loved the people who clamored through its halls, and those who had.

 

* * *

 

“Admiral. What a pleasure to have you join me.” Frieza swirled his wine, crossing his legs and gesturing for Bala to sit at the exquisitely decorated dining table.

 

“The pleasure is all mine, my lord.” 

 

Servants bustled about them, heads low as they plated food for the tyrant and his officer, filling glasses and scurrying away. 

 

“I expect great things from you, as always.” Frieza sang as he sipped his wine. 

 

“Yes, my lord.” Bala's practiced mask was nearly unreadable. Emotionless and as calm as a lake, first thing in the morning.

 

“Excellent. Before we dine I have something to show you.” Frieza’s dark lips curled into a sick grin, giddiness written all over his face. Bala's third eye narrowed suspiciously and he waited for Frieza to continue. Frieza sat poised, as he stared on at the admiral waiting for a reaction.

 

“And what would that be, my lord?” 

 

“Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

Bala had never seen anything quite like it before. 

 

A large room, even by the standards of Frieza's ship. It felt smaller than it was due to the printed pictures, statistics, reports, and drawings that covered the walls. Layer by layer. Every correspondence, every scrap of information regarding the Prince of the Saiyans and the price on his head for nearly ten years was on the walls of this room. 

 

Something clicked in Bala's mind. Suddenly he understood. It was more than just a matter of principle for Frieza, or revenge. It had become an obsession that had driven Frieza near to the point of insanity. Frieza ate, breathed, and slept with the sole purpose of destroying the Howler prince. 

 

Frieza would not be free until he had. He suddenly became aware that Frieza was still talking to him and focused more intently on the words coming from his mouth.

 

“-We will travel to the plotted coordinates, find the drifting planet. You will kill all of the Howlers but leave me their prince.” 

 

“Y-yes, lord.”

 

They let the heavy silence hang for a time as Frieza admired his handiwork and lost himself in the cold trails that spread like pulsing veins across the wall. The trail that had gone cold over and over again. Time after time, year after year. Detecting the Howlers only to find empty space when arriving.

 

“Now. On to more important matters. Tell me admiral…” Frieza mused as he leaned heavily on the arm of the chair that sat in the center of the room. He was tossing something up in the air over and over again.

 

Bala stood in front of Frieza, hands crossed delicately before him, the matte finish of his traditional Azkan armor seemed to drink in the low light. 

 

“...do you know what a dragon ball is?” 

 

* * *

 

Vegeta walked through the halls of the ship. Suffocating silence greeted him, only broken by the quiet padding of his bare feet on the grated flooring. They didn’t echo like they should. He was searching for something, but he just couldn’t seem to remember what. 

 

His tail tightened about his waist as he ran his cold hands over his bare arms, fiercely trying to warm them. 

 

The cold was paralyzing. If there was one thing any saiyan hates, it would be the cold. A thin layer of ice covered the walls, frosting the bulkheads and causing small icicles to dangle from the seams of the ceiling. He was impossibly lost.

 

He smelled her before he heard her, before he saw. It was the smell of hot sage, sweat, and cactus fruit. 

 

The  _ Soesa _ . 

 

A flash of blue in the dark grey of the empty space vessel. As he walked into the clearing he recognized it, the promenade of the ship.

 

Hot droplets burned his frozen, stiff skin and ran down the back of his scalp. He could hear her now, sniffling quietly, but he couldn’t seem to find her. Light danced across the floor as the corpses that hung from the ceiling swung back and forth as if waltzing. Then he saw her, crouched across the room, impossibly small.

 

He wanted to run to her but he couldn’t seem to will his body to move. He called out to her and she turned to face him. He took a step back, she was drenched in blood. It ran through her blue hair and down her face, soaked her shirt, and poured from her hands. 

 

When she saw him she began to scream.

 

How had he not seen, not smelled the overpowering stench of blood? He banished the thought as he ran to her. Running as fast as he could, but he could never reach her. White clammy hands ran themselves up her arms and to her throat from the darkness, dark nails tracing the veins under her skin. 

 

She begged for help, pleaded with Vegeta to save her. His hand brushed against her outstretched fingers as he slipped on the dark ice, just as the hands tightened around her throat and he heard the wet crunch of her neck snap.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta awoke with a jolt, as if electricity had shot through his body, travelling up his nerves and down his paralyzed limbs. 

 

He threw the sweaty blanket off and tumbled into the small corner sink, barely catching himself before his face collided with cold porcelain. Swallowing the hot bile that rose in his throat he smashed his fist into the fragments of the long-since-broken mirror that still clung desperately to the wall, creating yet another dent and nearly putting his first through the metal entirely.

 

No point lingering or trying to undo the knots of his frayed mind. Mourning wouldn't bring back the dead. Vegeta had learned that long ago. 

 

He chided himself for being so vulnerable to the attacks of his self-sabotaging, exhausted brain as he splashed his face with cold water and angrily flicked on the light.

 

It was just a dream, he told himself. Just another foolish, childish dream. Nothing more. The Soesa was more than fine. He was sure of it. Besides, he decided he would rather not care if she was or not. 

 

But he knew the truth. As long as Frieza was alive the saiyans would never be safe, they would never be free.  _ He _ would never be free.

 

* * *

 

“Some say that they are only legends but  _ I _ , I who have seen the future and touched the edge of destiny have seen the truth. The dragon is real, and so is his power. He needs only to be awoken.” 

 

The admiral nodded subtly and carefully, fighting the urge to take a step back from Frieza. 

 

“And what  _ can  _ one wish for when one has everything?” Frieza didn't wait for the admiral to answer, all but forgetting he was there in the first place. Frieza’s eyes fixed deep in the glow of the orange orb as he twirled it across his hand. “Unspeakable power. Eternal life. Immortality. And this unimaginable power has been hidden for centuries, and yet, I have destroyed six worlds to get at their cores. Six, prospering worlds, a meager price to pay for such a brilliant prize. Vegeta. Ornio. Ul... Now one remains… Assuming the witch is right…” he trailed off, swirling his wine, eyes still fixed on the dragon ball in his hand. “Who would have thought that such a valuable prize was hiding inside some rogue planet...floating listlessly in space...abandoned. But it is not the only prize on that godforsaken rock I seek…” his eyes met Bala's with a newfound ferocity. His dark lips twisted into a cruel smile. “The Howler Prince awaits me, Admiral. A trophy I will not be denied, no matter the cost.”

 

* * *

 

The empty halls of the ship echoed with each of Bulma’s footfalls, reverberating from the bulkheads and amplified by the absolute silence that otherwise pressed in all around and threatened to suffocate her.

 

Bulma thought back over those last, few, precious months and marvelled at how much she missed the noise, the posturing, the crude jokes, the occasional death threat - even the ones levied at her. Nearly everyone was gone and the silence was deafening.

 

She wandered aimlessly through the halls. All the random odds and ends strewn about now had names of owners attached to them and Bulma was at a loss for what to do or which would be more painful - to pick them up and place them among the other belongings of the dead, or to leave them as an eternal reminder of the emptiness inside of her.

 

She passed the hallway and stopped as a glimmer of light flicked on and caught her eye. Down at the end of the hall a thin sliver of light spilled from underneath a door. 

 

_ Vegeta _ .

 

She found herself at the light, at his door. A door she had never seen the other side of, Bulma hesitated, before knocking lightly.

 

“What?” snapped the harsh voice from inside.

 

Bulma paused, working up the courage to either speak or leave in silence. She just wanted to not move for the rest of forever.

 

“Ve...Vegeta?” She finally said softly, with her eyes on her toes. Her bangs danced in a whoosh of air as the door slid open to reveal the young prince-of-no-kingdom.

 

“Well?” he spat.

 

He looked absolutely terrible, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, deep bags under his eyes. Flat and tired, his eyes were fierce, as fierce as they had ever been. 

 

He was ready to fight. 

 

“Vegeta. I…” She paused once more, seeing for the first time the inside of his quarters. She had expected it to be the most luxurious on the ship, large and spacious. No one in the crew had ever been inside, and everyone used to gossip about what Vegeta must have in there to keep him busy, seeing as how when he wasn’t training he was always there alone.

 

But what awaited her curious gaze was nothing like what she expected. It was dingy. It was nearly completely empty. It was quite probably the smallest room on the ship, filled with merely a bed, lit by a small lamp on the small wooden table next to it and a small dripping sink in the corner. On the walls were an assortment of items that reminded her of the mess hall. She recognized one of Stoks’s knives, Basil’s goggles, Bardock’s ash pot.

 

“You  _ what?” _ Vegeta said again.

 

“...I...I’m nearly done with the engine.” She said, sheepishly.

 

His eyes narrowed. 

 

“You've been  _ nearly _ done for a long time. You didn't come here to tell me that.” He stated flatly. 

 

He was right. 

 

“I just...I was wondering...I don't wanna be alone right now I...I  _ can't. _ ”

 

Vegeta stood silent as Bulma wondered that his usual callousness hadn’t made itself immediately apparent. He didn’t move a muscle - not even his eyes twitched, and if he was breathing, Bulma couldn’t tell. After what felt like an eternity of his eyes boring into her, he took a half-step back with his right foot, turning out of the doorway, his arm extending into his room.

 

Bulma was shocked. She didn’t plan on coming here or asking for company. Had she thought about it, she would have laughed out loud at herself for the ridiculousness of the idea. Yet here she was. More surprisingly, here  _ he _ was, inviting her in.

 

“I’m not going to stand here forever.” He said bluntly, snapping her out of her daze.

 

She walked in, as lightly as she could, suddenly hyper-aware of how awkward she felt.

 

“So this is how the Prince of All Saiyans decorates, huh?” She said, internally screaming at how stupid she sounded.

 

“I am the prince of nobody but the dead. And I don’t deserve even that.” Vegeta said flatly.

 

“Hey now, Vegeta.” Bulma suddenly felt her usual fire rise within her. She was well aware of her oppositional defiance, often wanting to prove people wrong for no other reason than an unexplainable compulsion to be contrary. It was a trait that she had learned to harness and had served her well - especially when it overlapped with her internal sense of ethics, and protecting those she cared about, even from themselves. “All is not lost, the rest of the-”

 

He cut her off curtly. “of the crew will die like the rest.” 

 

“Hey! I’ll have you remember that your crew made me an honorary Saiyan.” she was almost yelling already. “And to be saiyan one must have saiyan pride, and nothing else makes a saiyan. Isn't that right?” She quoted his own words at him, words that had been originally launched as an attack against Raditz, now carrying with them an entirely different meaning than he had intended.

 

She wasn’t wrong, and he hated that.

 

“Oh, well how lucky to be me! I get to be the Prince of an angry, incompetent woman!”

 

“And what about Goku?!? He’s still out there!”   
  
“That  _ clown?!” _ he couldn’t believe she’d bring him up. “He knows less about being a saiyan than Raditz, or Stoks, or anyone I’ve ever met.” Vegeta accented his disdain by spitting harshly on the ground. “If being saiyan were knowing how to eat, he’d starve to dea-”

 

_ Slap. _

 

Bulma’s palm stung, but she hid the pain and hoped Vegeta’s cheek stung more.

 

“How dare you, Vegeta.” She screamed. “You speak of pride and here you are, hiding in your room like always, a beaten little BOY!”

 

Vegeta responded with silence. He slowly turned his head back to face her, his eyes raging with a fire behind them like a thousand dying suns. Bulma suddenly regretted everything.

 

“Vegeta, I..” Bulma began. “...I’m sorry. I…”   
  
“It’s alright.” he said. “It didn’t hurt.”

 

Coming from anyone else it would have sounded like the most petty thing in the world, but Bulma knew he was being absolutely serious. Still, thinking about it, Bulma couldn’t help but find it funny. She stifled a giggle, which turned into a chortle, and then a snort, before she burst out in laughter more intense than any she had ever laughed before.

 

Of course it didn’t hurt him, who was she kidding?

 

“I fail to find the humor.” Vegeta responded.

 

“Oh!” Bulma said when she found the space between her bellowing laughter. “Right… well, mister, I happen to know for a fact even  _ you _ are not that dense…” She punctuated the word ‘you’ with a poke to his adorable nose. Wait, did she just think of Vegeta, even just a tiny part of him, as  _ adorable?! _

 

“A ha! See!” She continued, as a the faintest of smirks found its way onto Vegeta’s face. “I knew you had a sense of hum-”   
  
Bulma’s eyes went wide as she found herself with Vegeta’s lips pressed firmly against hers. She hadn’t even seen him move, and here they were. Bulma melted, draping her arms around his neck. He moved forward, Bulma stepped backward and almost tripped onto the bed.

 

Their bodies became a tangle of limbs as tongues traced lightly over lips and teeth. It had been so long since Bulma had felt any human touch at all, let alone the intimacy that her heart had ached for. Perhaps she had known all along, as Lato used to tease her. 

 

Hands clumsily tugged at clothes as they moved further backwards against the creaky old mattress, nearly tripping over a pair of boots, they tumbled onto the bed. He cradled her head just before it hit the mattress, setting it down softly. Vegeta straddled her legs, cupping her face in his hand, and nibbled on her neck gently. Bulma’s head rolled back. She had never felt so small and so weak. He moved with confidence, he was an unstoppable force. She suddenly felt painfully vulnerable as she tried to adjust and found herself unable to against the firmness of his grasp.

 

“W-wait.” She said.

 

He stopped immediately, lifting his eyes. Dark and curious, they wandered. There was a hunger in them that rivaled his rage at its most passionate, and yet he was completely and utterly still. He cocked his head to the side, his ears twitching and tail flicking with curiosity, and in a voice that, for Vegeta at least, could only be described as tender, he said “What’s wrong?”

 

“I…” She said, turning her head away, for she couldn’t look into those eyes one second longer, “...I… need to feel safe.”   
  
Vegeta moved back, silently. There it was. This one wonderful, beautiful moment, her only chance, and Bulma had to ruin it with her childish insecurities. She truly was a master of self-sabotage. She scrambled off the bed and clumsily reached for her clothes feeling the hot tears well up in her eyes.

 

Vegeta’s hand moved lightning fast and yet as soft as a rose-petal tumbling through the air to the ground, grasping her arm just below the elbow. “Wait.”

 

She turned to him as he pulled her back in, this time laying himself down slowly and gently rocking her forward on top of him to rest on his hips. She thought she would crumble, right then and there, melting into nothingness. 

 

“You are safe with me.” he said as he moved his hands up the small of her back and over her, laying them to rest above his head. He was yielding to her.

 

She let her hands run up his front. Feeling her thick heartbeat shake her fingers as she traced carefully along the tapestry of scars that scored his skin. Ever-so-slowly she leaned down and kissed him. Once more their bodies lost their distinctions. His strength was hers and her softness his.

 

Slowly she twisted her hips deep into his, eliciting a quiet moan from him as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He dug his fingers into the creamy skin of her hips, pulling her forward and back. His tail finding its way around her thigh and squeezing tight, twitching with every groan and sudden move she made.

 

She sat up to watch him as he lay beneath her, their bodies continuing to move. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. She reached out to brush her trembling fingers along the side of his face, pulling the wisps of hair from his dark eyes. His eyes fluttered open and locked with hers as he reached up to hold her hand against his cheek.

 

It was more tender a gesture than he had ever felt. He couldn't describe it, couldn't put a name to it. Before he could think about it any longer she turned her hand against his, knitting her fingers in-between his. Her other hand found his and did likewise. She leaned forward, pinning his hands to the bed. It didn’t matter that he had the strength to throw her off of him and across the room with little effort. In this moment, he  _ couldn’t _ overpower her because he had given all his power to her. He had promised it to her and she had accepted. His  _ pride _ in his own integrity and her trust in that kept him subjugated beneath her. He resisted to the extent of her physical strength and no more.

 

They moved faster as the thin, lumpy mattress creaked and moaned beneath them in protest.

 

“B-Bulma…” She nearly stopped at the sound of her name, her heart dropping fast down her spine and deep into her ribs. But she couldn't. Instead she watched him with reverence and curiosity as he shuddered and groaned beneath her.

 

Bulma collapsed on his chest as his arms found their way around her shoulders, his fingers locking together. He nuzzled into her neck breathing her in deeply, making no move to pull away. She suppressed a shiver as his tail wrapped tightly about her waist, pulling her flush with him. It could have lasted a thousand years and she would still yearn for more. No matter what happened when they awoke the next morning and set off after Frieza, she’d stand with him - to live or to die.  The mysteries of the universe that had captivated her and pulled her from her planet into the dark loneliness of space no longer held the same prominence in her mind next to the mysteries of this boy...man. 

 

One thing was for sure. She could never go back to the way she had been. That girl was gone and she never would be again. She had grown to love a dying people led by a lonely prince. Grown to see the universe through their eyes and their words. 

 

She longed to reassure him, to tell him of her commitment to their cause, captive or not. She slid her hands up and rested them underneath her chin. Opening her mouth to speak she found him already asleep peacefully, quietly snoring.

  
  
  


* * *

* * *

 

AN: I know our publishing schedule has been crazy lately (well, not very crazy but a lot less consistent that we would like it to be). At this point we don’t want to abandon the schedule or “take a break” from the story so instead we are trying our best to stick to the schedule but publishing as often as possible. (If that makes any sense at all!) A lot is picking up in the story and we are so thankful for all of our dedicated readers and those who comment as well. We love you guys! Thank you for reading our story and taking this journey with us! 

 

Thanks again to thegayepidemic for beta-reading for us!


	21. Chapter Nineteen: Dust in the Wind

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: DUST IN THE WIND**

* * *

_ I close my eyes,  _

_ only for a moment,  _

_ and the moment's gone _

* * *

* * *

 

Vegeta wasn’t sure what he was looking for as he stared deeper into the corrugated metal of the wall. Bulma’s arms were slung gently around his shoulders and he left them there, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to push her off of him, to escape to anywhere but here. He wanted to disappear. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

 

A gentle knock at the door pulled him from his bubbling, brooding thoughts.

 

* * *

 

“And this couldn’t have waited until morning?” Vegeta griped under his breath. 

 

Lato took a playful step forward with her hands clasped behind her back as she caught up with Vegeta. As always, he walked with purpose, wasting no time with his stride. She sniffed the air around him exaggeratedly as they stopped in front of the door to the medical bay.

 

“Mmm.  _ Fetu _ ?” She asked disbelievingly. 

 

“Who I chose to...spend my personal time with is my business and mine alone.” He responded curtly. “Besides we are not here to discuss my personal life. You have news of your own.” He stated knowingly. 

 

“Yes, captain...I do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma turned over and buried her face in the pillow. It was cold and felt marvelous against her hot skin. It didn't smell like her pillow...it smelled like sweat and hot ash. 

 

_ Odd... _

 

She wiggled deeper under the blanket, expecting the gentle sway of her cot to lull her back to sleep, but it was not there. Her eyes shot open. 

  
  


Vegeta's empty bed and empty room greeted her sleepy gaze. She sat up, tossing the holey blanket from her naked body, the blanket they had shared the night before. 

 

_ Uh-oh.  _

 

* * *

 

Raditz’s hand gripped the door handle tight but he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. He had looked everywhere on the ship but here. It was silent now, still well before dawn and the door to the makeshift hospital was pulled shut, an oddity in and of itself. Something about the strangling silence frightened him and then he heard it. Lato gasped quietly on the other side of the door. 

 

“Quiet woman, you’ll wake someone.” 

 

“Sorry.” she apologized weakly. 

 

* * *

 

“I’ll learn ya to fight real good, y’hear?” Nappa laughed as he looked affectionately down at Kakarot, tossing the fruit he held up in the air over and over again. He bounced it off his elbows and knees as he jogged, keeping it constantly in motion. 

 

“Really? You’d do that?” Kakarot beamed as he quickened his pace to keep up with the large man.

 

“Sure will kid.” Nappa boomed as he slapped Kakarot on the back. “Try not to be so loud, though. Your feet are noisy. People’re tryin’ ta sleep. Show some respect!”    
  
“Hm?” Goku asked, eyebrows raised. He glanced down and only then realized Nappa, despite his size, was padding through the hall of the ship with a silence that belied his great mass - Goku really had to strain to hear his feet. “Oh.” he said.   
  
“Like this?” Goku asked, after adjusting his gait.   
  
“Ehehey! Now we’re talkin’!” Nappa beamed. “You learn to fight as well as you learn ta dance, and you may just pass up yer brother.”   
  
Goku, for his part, was happy to please his new teacher.

  
They turned down the hallway and Nappa stopped abruptly, his ears twitching at the sound of someone fumbling with the dented metal of Vegeta’s door. 

 

No one had ever been inside, no one had so much as seen the inside. He flattened against the wall, in the darkness between the hanging lights and pushed Kakarot against the hard metal with his burly arm.    
  
“What is i-mmph” Goku started, before a giant hand covered his mouth. 

 

“Well, well…” Nappa chuckled to himself as none other than the little  _ Soesa _ emerged, holding an armful of clothes and padding barefoot down the hall as quickly as she could go, in nothing but Vegeta’s shirt and herlittle striped panties.

* * *

 

 

Lato buttoned her pants and nodded her head serenely. 

 

“Thank you captain. I…”

 

He held up his hand as he pulled his vest back on and unrolled his sleeve to cover the gnarled scars on his arms. 

 

“Don't mention it.”

 

She nodded and he grabbed her wrist as she walked past him to leave. “I mean it.” His gaze burning holes through her. “If word of this gets out, especially to  _ Fetu _ and Raditz…

 

“I…” she saw the fire in his eyes and thought better than to protest. “I understand.” She whispered almost inaudibly. 

 

* * *

 

 

Raditz paced the room nervously, his tail rapping at the ground as he walked in small circles. 

 

He wasn't sure how to proceed but he would have to face her eventually. He just didn't know when or how. 

 

There was a knock at the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He threw the door open to reveal Lato, hands gently folded in front of her. She was as poised and as beautiful as ever. Something inside of him broke.

 

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity until she broke the silence.  

 

“May I come in?” 

 

Raditz silently stepped aside, allowing her into the room. 

 

“What's wrong?” She asked tenderly. 

 

He scoffed and it turned into a growl that he caught in his throat. 

 

“I...Raditz...I have good news.” she started meekly, gently changing the subject.

 

“Good news,  _ mmm _ ?” He scoffed under his breath. 

 

“What?” It was clear from her expression and posture that Lato was confused. 

 

“Don't lie to me.” Raditz muttered brokenly. “I went looking for you this morning and you were locked in the medical bay with him.” He fathered his broken composure as much as he could and straightened himself. He began again, “It would seem the time has come.” 

 

Lato was more than confused. “What time would that be, Raditz?” 

 

“Don't placate me, Lato…” The image of Tschev astride his father was forever etched in his memory, except now it was her, his beloved Lato, tossing her head back in ecstasy as she ground her hips into Vegeta who sat on the examination table in his father's place. It was even worse than when it had been his father. His heart had fallen and the hole it left ached with an intensity worse than anything he'd ever felt. All the shame, humiliation, and crushing despair of years living in his father's shadow, of constant ridicule, of failing to be a true Saiyan... It all paled in comparison to this emptiness that filled his soul. He had believed that they had meant something to each other. He had exposed himself at his most vulnerable to her. She had used him and now she and Vegeta would enjoy a good laugh at his expense every time his name came up for the rest of their lives.    
  
"I'm not stupid..." He continued.  "Vegeta has come of age, and it's time for him to be mated. The prince of all Saiyans... And..." He gestured defeatedly at Lato as his head sunk, "the last Saiyan woman. He has claimed you.”

 

She opened her mouth to contest and he interrupted her again. 

 

“Don’t...I can smell him all over you.” 

 

“Oh Raditz,” she whispered musically and Raditz felt his face prickling hot. “He was performing a medical exam, that's all.  _ ‘Ua faito’alua ta’ua* _ , and nothing will change that. Nothing.”

 

Raditz’s ire was suddenly gone and he grabbed her by the shoulders crouching to look her in the eyes. “A medical exam? Wait, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” His hand cupped the side of her face as he looked deeply into her eyes, his brow furrowed in concern. 

 

She smiled sweetly back at him and rubbed her cheek into his palm. 

 

“We’re fine Raditz. ‘ _ O ma’ua ‘uma _ *.” Before he could register the meaning of her words she clasped his hand and ran it down his front to her abdomen, where she let it rest.

 

* * *

 

 

Nappa hadn’t trained such a soft, young, tenderfoot in years. By golly, Tschev woulda been the last one he got to show the ropes, and honestly, she was so oppositional she probably learned about as much as everyone assumed Nappa knew. Had it really been that many years?

 

All Nappa knew was that he was really enjoying himself, and not just because his new pupil absorbed his lessons faster than anyone ever had.   
  
Nappa’s elbow came crashing downard, threatening to pulverize the smaller man, but Kakarot held his ground and caught it, shoving it upwards to try and unbalance him before throwing a kick towards the big man’s gut. Nappa was pleased. Kakarot had a bad habit of trying to be faster and nimbler than him, and he probably could be in a bit of time if he kept at it. But honestly, it’s not always a bad thing to block something head on, and Kakarot was getting physically stronger it seemed by the hour. He was finally realizing it.   
  
Goku himself was surprised when Nappa spun to the outside, grabbing Kakarot with both mighty hands, lifting him in the air and tossing him like a bale of hay.   
  
Goku had no idea how the big guy was so fast - especially with how big he was.   
  
“Ah, don’t take it too hard.” Nappa beamed, enthusiastically. “Honest, you’re getting quite a bit better. Yer intergraining the different stuff you’ve learned and making it more of yer own. Whatever your ‘turtle school’ is, and the stuff you picked up from ‘Korino’ or whatever… it’s less ecleptic now. All yer training is working together now, in particulars the stuff I’ve been showin’ ya.”

  
Goku stood, panting. “Thought I...had you, that time.” he said.   
  
“Hehe, ye darn near did.” Nappa laughed. Goku understood he wasn’t being laughed at, but that Nappa was actually enjoying himself as much as Goku did. It was a refreshing change of pace. Everyone who trained on earth took it so seriously - and of course Goku did too. He just also didn’t see why people couldn’t also have fun while they did it. He was convinced that his friends Yamcha and Tien almost didn’t even  _ like _ fighting, which made him wonder why they did it. They were always so stone faced while training.   
  
“Alright,” Nappa said, halting Goku as he was about to charge him again. “Hang on a sec.”   
  
“What is it? Are we done for today?”   
  
“Hehe, You wish.” Nappa shot back. “No, no, I just have a couple questions.”   
  
“Oh, okay. Shoot.” Goku said.   
  
“First,” Nappa hunched down, laying his great, tree-trunk arm across Goku’s shoulders and pulling his face close. “What kind of animal is a turtle? It sounds majestic….” Nappa asked.   
  
“Uhhhh….” Goku said. “Well, they swim...and they have shells...like built in armor!”   
  
“Uh-huh…” Nappa said. “Then why…nevermind. We’ll talk more about that later. Now,” and he pulled Goku in closer. “What do you know about  _ ki _ ?”

* * *

 

 

Vegeta tightened his freshly, wrapped fist as the blood dripped faster through his fingers. He drove his first through the moaning, splintered tree that stood before him and cursed to himself. 

 

No sense of propriety. Lato couldn't have picked a worse time. 

 

He squinted against the hot winds that blew harder and harder picking up dust, small rocks, and tumbleweeds as they swirled about him.

 

_ Damn Lato. Damn Raditz. Damn Fetu.  _

 

_ No. Damn him.  _

 

Could he blame them when he had- 

 

A stray fragment of a splintered rock blew past him and he ducked just in time, the jagged edge of the stone shard just missing his face. He spun around and swung his leg upwards. It collided with the granite and sent the rock barreling into the dark, starry sky. 

 

No matter how hard he trained,  every time he closed his eyes he still saw her face, sweet and round, her eyelashes fluttering in ecstasy. 

 

He couldn't escape her. 

 

Vegeta opened his eyes once again just in time to feel the hot, ashen wood collide with his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Stupid.  _

 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid.  _

 

What was she thinking? 

 

She wasn’t. That was the problem.

 

She told herself she let her loneliness get the best of her. 

 

Bulma paced her room in a state of fluttering panic. She chewed down the edges of her nails as she kicked aside papers and tools with her bare feet. 

 

In that moment everything else was thrown into the wind. The engine, the other saiyans, Kakarot- er, Goku, everything. 

 

All there had been was Vegeta, and Vegeta was all she could think about now. 

 

Where was he anyway? 

 

Probably training. She concluded, telling herself she wasn’t going to read into waking up alone. But she did anyway, welcoming another onset of panic. She curled up in her cot and hid under the blanket, willing the day to pass and night to come again. She didn’t want to face anyone but she needed to find Nappa and finish the engine. The sooner she did that the sooner they could leave. And then she asked herself a question she had never entertained before. 

 

_ What would she do then? _

 

* * *

 

 

The child’s fingers dug into the grate floor until they began to bleed. Bala pulled the blade away and inspected it in the soft, yellow light of the ceremony hall as the blood dripped from the edge of the blade. The guests chattered amongst themselves, seemingly unaware of the torture that was taking place just inches away from their dinner plates. 

 

“Tell me,” Frieza chimed in through a mouthful of food, “what was it that you called this technique commander?” 

 

“It is called Death of Ten Thousand Cuts but it is also known as stripping. Notice the way you strip the flesh bit by bit from the evildoer, as a form of last penance, my lord.” Bala stated.

 

Vegeta’s body shook as raw strips of flesh hung open from his arms and back.

 

“Oh, I see. How clever.” Frieza said clapping his hands together like an excited child. 

 

Bala held the cold blade to the boy’s back once again and watched as his tail tightened around his waist. He smiled. Sliding his fingers between the boy’s tail and his back, Bala pulled it free with some effort from it’s grasp about his waist. It recoiled but Bala caught it. Pulling the tail taut in his hand, with his other hand he pressed the knife against the base of the tail and watched as blood began to well up and drip down Vegeta’s side. Until now the small soldier had been silent. No matter how violent the assault, not a single sound had escaped him.

 

“No…” he muttered meekly.

 

The sound silenced the guests.  

 

“What was that?” Bala chuckled. 

 

“P-please.” The boy gripped the ground tighter as Bala jerked his tail, the muscles in his raw, back strained. “Please don’t.” he begged.

 

“Oh,  _ this _ ? Do  _ this? _ ” the commander taunted as he wrapped his hand around the tail and pulled as hard as he could. Not even the fine, ring of silverware could be heard in the room. Everyone was still and silent as they watched with morbid curiosity. 

 

“No,” Bala continued. “This is nothing more than pain to you, you little brute.” 

 

Vegeta didn’t respond. Still and silent, as he had been the entire time. Bala twirled the knife in his hand and smirked as he pressed it once again at the base of his tail. Vegeta stiffened as panic gripped him. He inhaled sharply. 

 

“Oh, I see.” Bala laughed, a sick grin splitting his face. “Attached to this are you?” 

 

Vegeta felt tears well up in his eyes but refused to cry out. Instead clenching down harder in the grate where his hands were restrained. 

 

“That’s enough commander.” Frieza’s voice slithered casually through the air. It sounded almost disappointed. 

 

Bala froze, knife touching bone.

 

“While I've rather enjoyed the show I told you I want the boy intact. What use is he to me if he is unable to breach the full extent of his power?”

  
Bala jerked awake from his thoughts as the door-chime of his quarters alerted him that someone was on the other side. ‘ _ Pity,’ _ He thought himself. Torturing the saiyan welp was his fondest memory and he greatly enjoyed reliving the moment again and again. He could practically hear the sound of the child blubbering and begging, pleading for relief and it gave him more pleasure than any woman - or man, for that matter - ever had.  It awoke in him a thirst that, no matter how he tried, he could never quench. He groggily made his way to his door, pressing his finger into the pad next to it.

  
“What is it?!” he asked impatiently.

 

“Sir, we found them.”   
  
Bala smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

“How long until we know?” Raditz muttered sleepily as he buried his face in the crook of Lato’s neck and breathed her in, letting his hands slide down her front to rest on her abdomen.

 

“Many moons, my love.” 

 

Raditz pouted playfully and sighed. Lato laughed. It was pure music. 

 

“It’s still so very early.” she added. Raditz had slept so peacefully since she had moved into his quarters and even more so now.

 

He was simply over the moon, and nothing or no one could bring him down again. 

 

\-----

 

“You’re the only reason we are still stuck on this godforsaken rock, you know that right? I swear to God I will never forgive you for this Nappa.” 

 

“I told ya. I’ll get to it as soon as we’re done here.” he laughed, still exchanging blows with Kakarot. 

 

“You said that yesterday.” 

 

He laughed again, a deep, hearty laugh. “And I meant it then just like I meant it now!”    
  
“That’s what I’m afraid of…” Bulma said sardonically.

 

“Gee Bulma...we’re just...havin’ a little fun. What’s the big hurry? Besides...Vegeta...isn’t even...back yet.” Kakarot beamed as he dodged each expertly timed blow.

 

Bulma rolled her eyes and sighed. She wanted to stay mad at him but she couldn’t help but smile. Pushing herself off the doorframe to the ship with her shoulder she walked back inside, arms still crossed. 

 

As she wound her way through the maze of hallways she passed Vegeta’s room and stopped. He had been gone nearly three days now, a trivial amount of time where Vegeta was concerned but considering the circumstances preceding it…

 

Something sour wiggled around in her gut as she thought about it and she found herself looking out the thin, long beveled window in the hallway to the darkness outside. 

 

“Come home soon.” she whispered as she thumbed the cross about her neck.

* * *

 

 

Vegeta woke with a start. He had trained until his body had dropped and that was where he found himself now, a thick, gritty layer of sand covering him. 

 

He pulled himself onto his knees and took a deep breath before standing. He couldn’t be sure how long he was out but his body was still exhausted, trembling and threatening to give out at the first wrong move.    
  
He groaned as he sat up, his joints stiff. He looked around for a moment until he saw where he left his pack that had the food he had taken with him. He started towards it when his ears pricked and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. A storm was brewing nearby, he could smell it on the wind. Perhaps he should head back a day or two sooner than planned.

 

* * *

 

The wind howled and dead trees moaned beneath it as the red dust swirled in small twisters across the landscape, ripping dry plants and weeds from the earth and tossing them violently about. 

 

Admiral Bala straightened himself squinting blindly against the desert storm as if he could blink away the thick, blackness of night. 

 

“Admiral.” the soldier bowed slightly as he lifted up the scouter to his superior.

 

“Thank you Rema.” Bala nodded as he slid the scouter on his face. 

 

Rema nodded and sniffed at the wind. “It reeks of Saiyan, sir.”

 

“Yes. It does. Let us take care of that, shall we?” 

 

* * *

* * *

 

AN: A thousand apologies! We moved, then moved the rest of my family halfway across the country and it has been CRAZY. Needless to say we are back and trying to stick to a regular publishing schedule now that we both have computers again (yay!). Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter because next chapter, shit is gonna get real.   
  
Note From Hanko: Just so you know what kind of a wild ride you’re in, the last three chapters are going to be pubbed back-to-back on consecutive days, kind of a ‘series finale’ sort of shindig. We hope you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

* * *

 

‘ _ Ua faito’alua ta’ua _ \- literally: ‘we are become a pair/married couple’,    
  
Note: It’s important that the pronoun used here for ‘we’,  _ ta’ua, _ specifically refers to the speaker and the one spoken to - not just any ‘we’. Samoan has a very systematic and extensive conception of pronouns, including categories that don’t exist in most languages. Whereas ‘we’ in English may or may not include the person being spoken to (ex: ‘Hey mom, my friends and I, we’re going to the mall’ - exclusive use of ‘we’; ‘Where are we going on the field trip?’ as in a student to a teacher, inclusive use of ‘we’). They have different forms of ‘we’ in Samoan (and thus, Saiyan) that make such things completely unambiguous. They also have different levels of plurality. In English, pronouns are either singular or plural. In Samoan, there are singular, dual, and plural pronouns. The pronoun Lato uses here is dual and inclusive, thus, she is unequivocally referring specifically to herself and Raditz, and only to herself and Raditz.   
  
‘ _ O ma’ua ‘uma’ _ \- Both of us. (literally: “all of us”, see below)

 

Note: As above, the pronoun Lato uses here is significant. Unlike  _ ta’ua _ which is inclusive,  _ ma’ua _ is dual and exclusive. What Lato is saying here is literally ‘All (two) of us (not you).’ Raditz, hearing that when she’s using a dual pronoun (referring to two people) and that he, himself, isn’t one of the two, could realize even without any other clues that Lato is referring to someone else getting a medical checkup - in this case, their unborn child.


	22. Chapter Twenty: Hell

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY: HELL**

* * *

**_I've been deep down in that darkness_ **

**_I've been down to my last match_ **

**_Felt a hundred different demons breathin' fire down my back_ **

**_And I knew that if I stumbled I'd fall right into the trap_ **

**_That they were layin'_ **

* * *

* * *

  
  


Purple lightning flashed across the sky as Vegeta stumbled aimlessly forward. One foot in front of the other. He didn’t feel like he could make it but he knew he could take just  _ one more step.  _ That was enough for him. He would never be too tired, too sore, too broken to take just one more step. He would make it back eventually, probably not before the storm passed, but eventually. It was the first time he could remember it raining on the rogue planet and it was pouring, pelting his skin with warm water. It was almost relaxing in a way. 

 

A brilliant blue light, brighter than any before, flashed across the sky and he looked up just in time to catch it. If he didn’t know any better he would’ve said a ship had entered orbit. 

 

* * *

 

 

Nappa froze and his head snapped upwards to look at the sky. “Shit on a stick.” he cursed, holding one of his hands over his eyes to guard them from the rain and catching Kakarot’s punch with the other. “If it ain’t a Frieza force cruiser then I don’t know what is.” 

  
“Frieza Force?” Kakarot said. “I think Bulma said something about that back before you captured her, something about a prisoner transfer, but I can’t remem- oof”   
  
Nappa’s fist caught him in the jaw.    
  
“Don’t get distracted!” He reprimanded the tenderfoot.   
  
“But you were gettin’ distracted…” Kakarot complained from where his butt hit the ground.   
  
“Eh, I was in control. You have no excuse. Now come on, I need to talk to the others. Get our orders straight.”   
  
“Oh, I see. What about Vegeta?”   
  
“What about him? He’ll have seen the ship in orbit clear as we did. Whatever he decides, he’s the prince. He’ll let us know if he wants anything specific. As for us, until then, we need to be ready. That ain’t no small-time purge vessel. That’s a command ship.” Nappa explained.   
  
“Ahh, right….” Kakarot responded. “...what does that mean?”   
  
Nappa could only sigh. “Just shut up and listen while we walk. We don’t got much time.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin as the crackle of the intercom broke the heavy silence. She dropped the wrench she had been holding and made her way slowly towards the radio console. 

 

She could  _ almost  _ hear voices, as she tuned the frequency and channels to match one another she heard a smooth, calm voice, loud and as clear as day. 

 

“I repeat. This is Admiral Bala of the Planetary Trade Organization. Surrender the Howler prince or suffer the wrath of the Frieza Force. You have 15 minutes to respond.” It paused for a moment and repeated itself again. 

 

“This is Admiral Bala of the Planetary Trade Organization. Surrender the Howler prince or suffer the wrath of the Frieza Force. You have 14 minutes to respond.” 

 

Bulma’s heart dropped to her stomach so fast she swore she was going to be sick. This was it. Frieza had finally found them...and Vegeta was nowhere to be found.

 

Before she could ask any questions Lato and Raditz came barrelling in one door and Nappa and Kakarot the opposite door. 

 

“What the hell is-”

 

“No time.” Nappa shouted curtly. “You stay here, stay hidden. We gotta get as far away from the ship as possible as soon as-” 

 

“Wait!” Bulma cried out, her voice breaking like a small child’s as she tried not to cry. “You can’t go! You can’t leave me here alone.” 

 

“Sorry  _ Fetu _ ...ain’t got much of a choice.” Nappa sighed, looking on at her with pity. “They’ll be scanning for Saiyan life signs and we can’t risk ‘em finding the ship...or you.” He looked down at her with kind eyes and she nearly crumbled, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. 

 

“Just promise me you’ll come back alive.” she cried into his shirt. 

 

“This is Admiral Bala of the Planetary Trade Organization. Surrender the Howler prince or suffer the wrath of the Frieza Force. You have 13 minutes to respond.” 

 

He laughed and tousled her hair. “Can’t make no promises,  _ Fetu _ . You know what they say. Live like you’ll never die. Now you listen real good, y’hear? Stay put. Right here in the engine room. Don’t move a good goddamn toe outside of this room. With your tiny power level and the insulation in these here walls,” Nappa knocked on the wall with his knuckle. “They won’t be able to read yer life signs in here….maybe.” 

 

Bulma’s eyes sank to the floor. “...ok.” she muttered.

 

“HEY! What do you mean,  _ maybe _ ?!” Bulma yelled, but they were already gone.

 

* * *

 

 

They were running as fast as they could - they had to put distance between themselves and the ship. A lot of distance. Nappa just hoped they were right about them ignoring Bulma’s reading on their scanners - it wouldn’t be the first time Saiyans used someone of a lesser race as a servant or slave. That’s if they scanned at all for other life signs. They didn’t expect to find anything but saiyans, so hopefully that’s all they’d be looking for.   
  
“Alright, that’s far enough,” Nappa said. They had gotten about 5 miles from the ship. Hopefully, with its power down, it wouldn’t be detected before they were. “Time’s about up, look.” he pointed towards the sky where they could see the tiny yellow dots that were the thrusters of the landing craft departing from the command ship.   
  
“Let’s see….one, two, three…” Nappa continued to mumble. “Times four per shuttle… that’s… let’s see… uh... and carry the two…”

 

“Sixty.” Lato said. “You think the four of us can handle sixty?”   
  
“I was gonna get it eventually!” Nappa yelled. “And yes. Piece of cake.”   
  
“But these are likely…” Raditz started.   
  
“Elites. Yes.” Lato finished for him.   
  
“Does that mean they’re strong?” Kakarot asked.   
  
They all turned to look at him.   
  
“Yes, Kakarot. ‘Elite’ means ‘best’.” Raditz said.   
  
“Ooooooh, I’m so excited!” He was actually dancing with glee, bouncing on the balls of his feet.   
  
“Hehe, good attitude, Kakarot. Let’s hope it lasts.” said Nappa. “There’ll be lots more after this…”

 

Lato took a step forward and stopped as Raditz held her wrist tight. 

 

“Wait…” he muttered. 

 

She turned to him, his brow furrowed and eyes large with concern. 

 

“What is it, my dear?” she soothed as she cupped his face in her hand. 

 

“You...I...It’s just I would feel better if you didn’t fight. If you hid somewhere...If-” 

 

“I will be fine Raditz.” she smiled patiently at him. “Besides, we can’t afford to be one man down. We need all the help we can get.” 

 

Slowly he released her wrist and pulled her in close before the two of them took off after Nappa and Kakarot.

 

* * *

 

 

“It looks like there’s four of them clustered in sector 37, sir” the conn officer reported.   
  
“Hmmm… interesting.” Bala said. “Make sure you sweep the rest of the planet as well. Don’t want them trying to hide something by giving us an obvious target… tell the captain he has permission to land and engage, but keep the howler prince alive. He shall be my gift to Lord Frieza.”   
  
“Yes sir.” the junior officer replied. “The first shuttles are starting the landing sequence now.”   
  
“Excellent. Keep me updated.”   
  
“Yes sir. Oh, this is interesting, sir.”   
  
“Well?”   
  
“It looks like a crashed ship… older model. It doesn’t seem operational, it barely has reserve power, hence why it didn’t show up on the initial sweep. They must be using it as a base of operations.”   
  
“Yes, I see.” Bala was contemplative. “Inside their ship would be the ideal place for them to make a stand… they’d have places to hide, possibly dampened smuggling compartments, and they could slip out if things went badly. They know the ship...why would they forego such an obvious advantage? Are there any life signs?”   
  
“Hard to tell sir, there are some faint energy readings, but they’re  _ very _ faint, and the signal isn’t very clear. Probably just some jerry-rigged generators or something hooked up to the engine core.” the conn officer answered.   
  
“They’re hiding something there, I know it. Send a couple of reserve teams down there while the primary force engages the saiyans and keeps them busy.”   
  
“Yes sir.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re not actually gonna  _ surrender _ , are you?” Kakarot asked.   
  
“Shut yer mouth, Kakarot.” Nappa said. The enemy commander stood across from them, and they were surrounded.   
  
“I won’t ask again. You have ten seconds.” the commander called out, his arm poised in the air, momentarily holding back the order to charge.   
  
“You want me to put my hands up?” Nappa asked. “Then who am I to argue!” He lifted his hands in the air, but they didn’t remain there for anything longer than the tiniest fractions of a second. He threw them forward, launching a yellow beam of ki energy towards the commander.   
  
“What the-” was all he could get out before his body incinerated.   
  
“Pathetic.” Nappa spit. “Attack!”   
  
The saiyans didn’t need to be told twice.   
  
Tschev and Bardock would have been proud to see their ferocity. Even Lato’s usual tranquil, meditative expression had been replaced with a brow furrowed with rage as the four saiyans crashed into the mass of soldiers.   
  
A dozen were dead before the first hit the ground. Gunfire started, mixed with yells of aggression, shock, fear, and pain. 

 

Raditz’s hooks tore into throats and chests, tossing the soldiers like rag dolls, while Kakarot darted from foe to foe, taking his time to avoid the weapon-fire on his way to each victim. 

 

Lato danced through the heavy rainfall leaving a trail of broken limbs and faces in mud as she went. 

 

Nappa was arguably having the most fun with the least tact, as was so often the case. He merely waded headlong into them, somehow moving his frame enough to avoid the blaster fire and swinging his mighty arms, with each strike ending the life of another puny Frieza Force ‘Elite’.   
  
“Hurry!” Nappa heard someone yell, and looking towards the origin of the voice, he saw a soldier loading an energy pack into a shoulder cannon.   
  
“Lato!” he yelled. “Eleven o’clock!”   
  
She leapt onto the face and shoulders of a soldier in her way - a trick she’d learned from watching Tschev - and leapt from him, somersaulting in the air. A metallic  _ Schink  _ pierced the air followed by two strikes just before Lato landed, flipping her wet hair behind her. The two soldiers fell to the ground, before either could make a sound. Blood poured from their necks mixing with the rain and running into the mud. Lato twirled her knife tauntingly at the nearest group of soldiers, before taking off towards them.   
  
“Die, bitch!” a soldier yelled, with a loud whirring sound starting up. Lato slid to a quick halt to turn towards the voice. There in the pouring rain stood a third soldier had grabbed the shoulder cannon and was training it on Lato. She sprinted towards him, but too late. She wouldn’t make it in time.   
  
“Lato!” Raditz yelled, throwing his present adversary to the side. He knew there was no way to get to her in time, even as fast as he was.   
  
Her eyes widened as a red dot in the barrel of the shoulder cannon turned into a bead, then into an orb. It would be ready to fire in another instant. But it never did.   
  
A huge blast of yellow energy shot forth, consuming the soldier, shoulder cannon and all. The weapon and it’s attached energy cell exploded, the shock of which rattled Lato, once more tripping to a stop in the red mud.   
  
She turned and saw Nappa, his huge mouth open wide launching forth an energy beam. It was so intense that off a ways it collided with one of the shuttles, causing it too to explode.   
  
“Keep your eyes open, girl!” He yelled. “This is why you lose in  _ Fa’amailei _ !”   
  
A fist crossed Nappa’s cheek as he spoke, lightly jerking his head to one side. “Huh?” He said, looking down at the poor soldier stupid enough to try and hit Nappa in the face. “Oh, hehehe.” his face grew a sadistic smile as he grabbed the soldier and chucked him at another soldier that was training his weapon on him.   
  
“You’re lucky you’re so big, Nappa!” Lato yelled playfully, also smiling. “You can get away with not being aware of things!”   
  
“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He called back as he snapped a soldier’s neck, while another two tried pitifully to injure him by striking him in the back. He swept his arm across them, bending them over into a heap on the ground as he did so.   
  
“These guys aren’t all that strong at all…” Kakarot complained as he dropped another soldier with a flurry of blows.   
  
“Sorry to disappoint, brother!” Raditz yelled as he smashed two heads together.   
  
“Guess I trained you too good!” Nappa called. “Sorry, but we have to get through these losers before the really tough guys show up.”   
  
“Ahhhhhh….” Kakarot whined. 

 

_ BANG! _   
  
“Woooeee!” Kakarot yelled, a gunshot just narrowly missing him. “Almost got me there, hehe.”   
  
_ TSEEEW! _   
  
“Whoah, another close one.” he said, having just barely dodged a blaster cannon that time.   
  
“Keep close in on ‘em and they can’t use their weapons as much!” Nappa yelled. “Feel free to use your own guns if’n you wanna!”

 

Raditz had lost one of his good gut hooks along the way but wasted no time pulling his gun free. He aimed his gun and pulled the trigger, it made a tinny, clicking sound. 

 

“Crap!” 

 

“Catch.” Nappa shouted as he pulled the rifle from his back and tossed it behind him to Raditz, who holstered his gun and caught the old rifle. Cocking it and he pressed the butt into his shoulder. With a loud  _ bang _ it left a gaping, gushing hole in the chest of the closest soldier. Wasting no time, he dropped to the ground to reload.    
  
“Keep it up, kids!” Nappa yelled. “More on the way!”   
  
The sky was littered with landing shuttles, still pouring out from the command ship.

 

* * *

 

 

“What is he doing down there?” Frieza griped as he drummed his fingers on the leather arm of his chair, an array of screens within the main viewer showing the various feeds from the scouters the soldiers were wearing. They were turning to static at an alarming rate, only to be replaced with new feeds from other soldiers in the battle.

 

“Sir,” the ensign at the helm barked. “It would appear the saiyans are dominating Bala’s forces. Matching seventy soldiers to one saiyan at any moment. The last of the main force has landed. Reserves are on standby. We’ve gotten a report from one of the soldiers that the prince is not among them.” 

 

“Is that so? Pity for them...” Frieza sneered behind clenched teeth. He took a deep breath and sighed dejectedly. “Must I do  _ everything _ myself?” he swirled his wine as he stood from his chair. 

 

“Oh well, I suppose if you want something done right you simply  _ must  _ do it yourself. It is quite impossible to find good help these days, ensign.” and with that he stood and strode out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

The saiyans stopped as the underside of the clouds illuminated with a bright red glow. High up, barely beneath the dark, storm clouds they saw him. 

 

Frieza. 

 

That’s also when they saw the intense red light coming from his hands, descending towards the planet like a tidal wave.

 

* * *

 

 

Bathed in blue light that surrounded her like an aura, Lato sprinted past Raditz like a shooting star, throwing herself underneath the beam of red light, and holding up her hands. The sky was lit with brilliant red and blue as her ki collided with Frieza’s.    
  
“Just...go…” she said, straining under the pressure.

 

“No!” he screamed, gathering his own ki into his palms. “I won’t leave y-”

 

Lato turned just enough to see Raditz over her shoulder. The last thing he saw was her smiling at him. Nappa grabbed hold of the paralyzed Raditz as he and Kakarot sprinted off. A few precious, miraculous seconds later, intense red light engulfed Lato as the impact of the beam shook the planet. It barreled deep into the crust, shaking the ground and causing torrents of air to lash through the atmosphere for miles. Water began to gush forth from under the splintered earth. But Raditz heard none of it, all he could hear was the pained scream that ripped through his throat.

 

* * *

 

 

Vegeta’s heart prickled and he clenched his fists, catching his breath and feeling the warm blood soak the cloth wrapped around his hands. He had been running as fast as he could, which, granted, wasn’t very fast at the moment but it was the best he could do in the condition he was in. 

 

He watched on in horror as the red light engulfed the blue and he felt the very ground shake beneath his feet. He had barely set out and he was already too late. 

 

Frieza was already here.

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma bit down on her knuckle to keep herself from crying out as she crawled inside the engine. This was bad, so very, very bad. There were Frieza Force soldiers on the ship, and that meant… the saiyans… Goku… even Vegeta… She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears as a shockwave rippled through the earth, shaking the ground and tossing broken components and tools all across the engine bay. That was going to be a bitch to clean up later, Bulma thought,  _ If there even IS a later… _   
  
The sound of heavy footfalls and troop radios echoed through the grated floor above her and she watched on as the soldiers tore through the ship. Bulma’s mind raced between panic and attempts at figuring out what to do next.   
  


 

* * *

 

 

Before Bala could voice his protest at the wanton destruction of his remaining troops, Frieza’s voice slithered through his com badge. 

 

“Now admiral, you had your opportunity to do it  _ your way _ and you have failed me miserably. Now get down there and retrieve my dragon ball. Pray you do not further provoke my ire.” 

 

“Yes, my lord.” Bala gulped, turning on his heels and walking towards the launch bay.

 

* * *

  
  


  
  
  



	23. The New Divide Part I

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: THE NEW DIVIDE**

**PART I**

* * *

_ I remember black skies _ _  
_ _ The lightning all around me _ _  
_ _ I remember each flash _ _  
_ _ As time began to blur _ _  
_ _ Like a startling sign _ _  
_ _ That fate had finally found me _ _  
_ _ And your voice was all I heard _ _  
_ _ That I’d get what I deserve _

* * *

* * *

  
  


The rain had come to a stop as the dust began to clear and the winds died down from the explosion of Ki. Raditz coughed as he rose to his feet, wiping the dirt and mud from his eyes.   
  
“Lato?” he called. “ _ Lato _ ?!”   
  
There was only the sound of rubble and dust still settling to answer him. He stumbled forward numbly, not sure what to think or even if he could.   
  
Nappa found him after a few minutes, Kakarot was with him.   
  
“Oh, thank Stoks’s Gods.” he said. “Come on Raditz, we gots ta get back to the ship.”   
  
“Lato…” he mumbled.   
  
“Yeah, I know. She done bought us the hot minute we needed to get some distance. Didn’t think anyone coulda contended with Frieza like that, but leave it to Lato to do it...”

 

“She’s….she’s gone.” Raditz said.   
  
“Oh fer cryin’ out loud.” Nappa said. “We can mourn later, Raditz. Now snap out of it. Don’t show such disrespect as to waste her sacrifice.  _ Look _ .”   
  
He pointed in the direction where they had all been just minutes before, where...it happened. Raditz and Kakarot noticed the shuttles landing.   
  
“We should make sure they know we’re still here.” Nappa said. “Don’t want them goin’ round, looking for a ship or nothing…”

 

* * *

 

 

Bala was the first to exit his shuttle. His three men followed immediately, and within a few seconds the remainder of his personal elite guard exited their two shuttles.   
  
“Keep up a perimeter at 10 meters while I retrieve the ball!” Bala ordered his men. “Knowing saiyans, some of them survived, they will remain hidden for the time being. If they attack, keep alert, they’re likely to use diversion tactics and surprise attacks if they can distract you! And don’t rely too much on your scouters - they will be unreliable at best, given the magnetic interference we just stirred up in the core of the planet.”   
  
“Sir!” they all acknowledged in unison.   
  
Bala clasped the helmet into place on his environment suit before dropping into the huge hole Frieza’s beam had bored into the planet. Meanwhile his men set uup lights around the perimeter and inside the hole. He activated his handheld scanner as he nimbly hopped from ledge to ledge, down into the crust of the rogue planet. If what Frieza had said was accurate, the magma flows released from the hole in the side of the planet would carry the dragon ball right to the surface of the mantle, and then it would get lodged in when the magma began to cool. He’d just have to locate it on the scouter, blast his way to it, then use the environment suit’s jetpack to get back to the surface.   
  
Bala wondered at the information given to him in the briefing. Some retrieval missions had taken days, even weeks. Others they found the ball within a day. Either way, he didn’t much like the idea of the Howler Prince still being unaccounted for.

 

* * *

 

  
“Hehehe...only eleven. This won’t be so bad.” Nappa chuckled from behind the boulder the three Saiyans were using as cover.  
  
“Are these guys at least stronger than the last ones…?” Kakarot complained.  
  
“Don’t worry, Kakarot.” Raditz said. “If they’re confident with only eleven, then they’ve got to be in a league of their own compared to the typical elites.”  
  
“Ummm… guys?” whispered a voice.  
  
“Alright, Kakarot, you go-” Nappa started.  
  
“Guys?!” came the voice again, this time louder.  
  
“What in ‘tardation?” Nappa exclaimed.  
  
“Psst. It’s me.” the voice chimed in.  
  
“Fetu?” Raditz said disbelievingly.  
  
“Yes. I linked in through the comm badge I made you. I need-”  
  
“Is everything alright Bulma!?” Kakarot interjected.  
  
“Shut up Kak-er...Goku.” Bulma said from the other end of the line. “No, everything is _not_ _alright_. There are soldiers on the ship. I’ve managed to evade them for now, but I could really use some help right about now! Also, Nappa! Literally the only thing I have left to do is lift the new crystal matrix into place for the power relay and the engine should work. You’re the only one tall or strong enough to do it. Respectfully, can you please move your ass back to the ship and help me now like you’ve been promising for forever!?”  
  
“Hmm.” Nappa said. “Right, I’m on my way.”  
  
“But Nappa!” Raditz interrupted. “You can’t expect me to fight eleven of the _honor guard_ by myself!”  
  
“Y’ain’t by yerself. You gots Kakarot.” Nappa said.  
  
Raditz scoffed.  
  
“Don’t give me that,” Nappa said. “Boy picks things up quick. You might be impressed. Anyways, I’ll be back before you could even count to eleven. ‘Fore I could count to eleven, anyway.”  
  
“This is gonna be so sweeeeet!” Kakarot chimed in. The other two looked at him.

 

“Where did you even come from?” Raditz asked his younger brother.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been about half an hour since Bala descended into the crust of the planet. Given that it was more or less a clear shot straight through the crust, he ought to be getting close to the mantle by now. Sergeant Kern was getting antsy. Given how the howlers had been making an embarrassment of the elites earlier, he was sure that at least one of them had survived, and their  _ prince _ was still out there, and he was probably the most dangerous of all. If this mission really did take a few days like the briefing said it might, this was going to be a nerve-wracking post. He just hoped the howlers were stupid enough to attack sooner rather than later.

 

He got his wish.

 

“DOUBLE SUNDAY!” he heard someone yell. They all whipped their weapons around in the darkness just in time to see two yellow beams launch towards them, and before they could realize what happened, there were only nine of them left.

 

“That’s a stupid name.” another voice chimed in. 

 

“Shut up! I don’t see you comin’ up with no clever moves or nothin, Jeff.”   
  
The howler was sliding down the ridge from where he launched his attack, charging headlong into their position.   
  
“Light him up, boys!” Sergeant Kern ordered, and they opened fire.   
  
“....ha....me-HA!” They all heard, but just barely over the sound of their weapons. Several of them turned in time to see Kern incinerated in a beam of blue energy.

 

“Okay now that was cool. Much cooler than some double whamy or whatever that first one was.” 

  
“Shut yer mouth, Jeff! You and Jim take the one behind, I’ll engage the first one. Tim, Cody, you’re with me! The rest of you, maintain your positions and stay alert!” Corporal Derek ordered.

 

Derek, Tim, and Cody tried in vain to pin down Raditz with their blasters.   
  
“Forget it boys, prepare for hand-to-hand.” They didn’t wait, dropping their weapons immediately.   
  
Raditz easily deflected the first few kicks and punches but paused in shock when the corporal dodged Raditz’s own attack. That pause cost him. The corporal’s elbow smashed into Raditz’s gut, winding him. The three honor guards pressed their attack, harrying him relentlessly, pelting him with hands, feet, elbows, and knees. Raditz covered up as best he could, but the attacks quickly wore him down until he fell to one knee.   
  
This was it. He knew he was far from the best saiyan warrior, but he didn’t think it would end like this. He wouldn’t let it end like this. He relaxed as best he could, the way Lato had taught him - it almost made the blows feel lighter. In fact, he could barely feel them at all now. Wait, he  _ couldn’t _ feel them at all, he heard a few more blows, then some grunts and some heavy  _ plops _ . Hesitantly, he uncovered his arms from around his head and looked up to see Kakarot extending his hand.    
  
“Hey, you alright?” he asked.   
  
“K..Kakarot! How did you?” Raditz asked, incredulously.   
  
“Oh, yeah, these guys are a lot stronger for sure - it was surprising at first! Anyway, I could feel that they were a lot tougher than the other guys before we attacked, so I went in a bit carefully. Looks like they surprised you too. Besides, only two came after me, there were three going for you.”   
  
“Hmph.” Raditz scoffed. “Let’s just focus on finishing the job.” he said as he got back on his feet.   
  
“Why aren’t the other three attacking?” Kakarot asked.   
  
“They must have been ordered to stay put.” Raditz said, pulling out his boot knife.   
  
“Well, let’s go take the fight to them, then!” Kakarot said. “Wait, what are you doing!?”

 

Raditz had knelt down and mercilessly ended the three that Kakarot had knocked out with his knife.   
  
“We don’t need these three getting back up, Kakarot.”   
  
“But they were done! There was no point to that!”    
  
“Psh. Don’t be so naive.” Raditz responded curtly. “This isn’t some sparring match, this is war. Now let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Bala held the Dragon Ball in his hands. It was smaller than he expected, about six inches in diameter. He was surprised at how easily he had found it. After the embarassing show of his main force earlier, he was finally excited to see Frieza again - it had not even been an hour and he held it in his hands. Frieza would have it in his in less than another hour. That had to be some kind of record.   
  
He smiled to himself and activated the jetpack. He’d be at the surface in only a few precious minutes. Good thing, too. The readings on his scanner showed the planet core to be unstable - Frieza’s blast must’ve hit it harder than intended. Judging by the readings, the whole planet would fall apart or collapse on itself in a couple of hours.

 

* * *

 

 

The last three  _ honor guard _ soldiers were proving to be a bit more difficult than the first eight. In part because Kakarot and Raditz had lost the element of surprise, and the soldiers weren’t nearly as confident as they had been after seeing so many of their comrades overpowered. They seemed to have limitless ammunition, and kept the two saiyans at bay, regardless of how many tactics or tricks they tried to close the distance.   
  
Raditz found it frustrating. Kakarot was hardly in any better of a mood.   
  
The two took cover behind a large boulder.   
  
“Okay, why are they guarding that damn hole!?” Raditz asked. If Bardock or...Lato…. were there, they probably could’ve figured it out.   
  
“There must be something special in there!” Kakarot said.   
  
“Brilliant. So it’s a special hole. Why doesn’t Frieza just blow up the planet altogether!?” Raditz asked.   
  
“Didn’t you guys tell me Frieza really wanted to get Vegeta?” Kakarot asked.   
  


Raditz pondered that. It must be the reason...Frieza was a sadistic bastard after all, probably wanted the pleasure of bringing in Vegeta still alive for torture or something. Still, it didn’t answer why they were guarding the damn hole in the ground. It didn’t matter. They were here, they were a threat, and they needed to be neutralized.   
  
What Raditz wouldn’t give for a moon right about now.   
  
“Alright Kakarot, can you manage another one of your kamekaha-whatevers?” He asked.   
  
“Kamehameha? Yeah, probably. The first one took a lot out of me, but I might could do one more.”   
  
“Then do it. It doesn’t have to be powerful, just big and flashy, got it? Charge it up here, and when you’re ready, I’ll knock this boulder out of the way so you can fire it. Hopefully it’ll give me enough cover to get in there.”   
  
“Right!” Kakarot affirmed.   
  


* * *

 

Bulma had had just about enough of the silent tears as she bit down on her knuckle and thought of all of the horrific things the soldiers would do to her when they found her. 

 

She crawled out of the engine and grabbed her tool bag. 

 

As Nappa would say,  _ Time to shine. _

 

* * *

 

 

“They still haven’t come out, sir.” the soldier reported.   
  
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud, don’t call me sir, I don’t care how the chain of command works. Just don’t close your eyes for a second. They can’t sneak out without getting blasted. They’re probably hoping we’ll get dumb and go investigate or someth- whoah!!”   
  
The boulder was knocked aside as the soldier spoke, a blast of blue energy shooting towards them.   
  
“Hit the dirt!” he yelled as the three dove to the side for cover. The blast shot harmlessly by them.   
  
“Hehe, they’re gettin’ desperate.” The first soldier said, rising to his feet. He got to his knees when he noticed the burly legs standing in front of him.   
  
“Desperate, are we?” Raditz asked, grabbing him by his helmet and smashing his face with a knee. The soldier dropped to the ground. The other two tried to jump up and engage Raditz without success. It was only a few moments later that the last of the guards lay limply on the ground.

 

“Disgusting.” Raditz said. “I’m ashamed they even gave us so much trouble in the first place.”   
  
“Perhaps then, you’d like a more worthy challenge” a smooth voice called from behind him. He turned and saw a decorated officer, removing an environment suit, holding a golden orb in his hand.   
  
“Don’t make me laugh, skinny.” Raditz mocked.   
  
“Whoah, who’s he?” Kakarot asked as he ran up.   
  
“I am Admir-”   
  
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Raditz cut him off. “He dies. Get ready, Kakarot.”   
  
“You there.” Bala called out to one of the two soldiers that Kakarot had downed initially.

 

“Yes sir?” came the weak reply.   
  
“Take this to Lord Frieza.” Bala commanded, tossing him the ball. “Tell him his dragon ball was easy to find and I’ll return just as soon as I finish cleaning up this trash.”

 

“Yes sir.” The soldier said, catching the ball.

 

“I won’t be long.”

 

* * *

 

 

Nappa stopped his running about halfway to the ship. Something didn’t feel right. Those soldiers weren’t hunting the saiyans...they were just standing around. There must be something special in that hole Frieza dug into the planet with his death beam, and if Frieza wanted something from inside the planet they wouldn’t guard it with just nobodies. Not just eleven nobodies anyway.   
  
He turned back. Raditz and Kakarot would be in trouble. He just knew it.   
  


* * *

 

 

Kakarot’s face hit the dirt again.   
  
“Not bad, howler.” Bala taunted. “You fight differently than any of your kind I’ve ever faced before. Too bad you’re just not fast enough.”   
  
He teased him as he evaded Raditz’s attacks. Laughing.   
  
“Oh, my. All that muscle and what good even is it?” he pelted Raditz across his gut, chest, and face, before landing a side kick that spun Raditz through the air and into the dirt next to Kakarot.   
  
Raditz growled.   
  
“He’s not all that strong, I just can’t get my hands on him!” Raditz complained.   
  
“Ugh, yeah. I know what you mean.” Kakarot responded, rubbing the back of his head.   
  
“You howlers are all alike. You think you’re  _ so _ strong. And maybe you are. Fat lot of good it’s doing you now, eh? I’ve studied all your race’s pitiful strategies, techniques, and martial training systems. You are nothing to me. So much for the famed  _ warrior _ race.”   
  
“Have you studied THIS!?” Raditz yelled. “Just keep your eye on the birdie!” He launched a small ki blast right at Bala, who braced to block it, but before it hit him it swerved up into the sky and past him, exploding off in the distance somewhere.   
  
“Huh?” Bala wondered as Raditz plowed into him.   
  
“Heh.” Raditz chuckled. “Where’s your pompous arrogance now!?”   
  
The two of them crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Raditz rolled on top of Bala, using his size advantage to hold the thin, lanky, admiral down and started raining blows as hard as he could down on him. 

 

Bala did his best to cover up. He could tell the howler was weakening. After all, he’d fought an entire legion, they had expended considerable energy with multiple key blasts. He must be exhausted by now…   
  
Bala tried his best to shuffle underneath the big saiyan, getting his legs just free enough to knee him in the back. The howler paused just long enough for Bala to jab at his throat. The saiyan gagged and Bala smiled. He turned his hips and threw the big guy off of him.   
  
“Not bad, you almost had me there. I have to admit, you fight better than almost any saiyan I’ve ever fought.” He brushed his uniform of the dirt that covered it. “Pity, I could use a captive like you for training purposes. Too bad Lord Frieza wants you all dead.”   
  
He pulled his sidearm from its holster, aiming it at Raditz.

 

Bala smiled and whipped around, catching Kakarot in the face with his elbow.   
  
“Uh, uh, uh!” he taunted. “Sneaky brute.” He rained a few more blows on Kakarot before knocking him again to the ground. “You saiyans are like weeds. Always popping up at the worst times. The universe will be a better place once you’re truly eradicated.”   
  
He returned his aim to Raditz.   
  
“Be glad I don’t do to you what I did to your  _ prince _ …” Bala taunted as he started to squeeze the trigger, happy memories of lacerating the boy prince’s flesh flooding his memory.   
  
“And what would that be?” boomed a voice from behind Bala.   
  
“Wha-?” Bala said, starting to turn around. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, freezing him in his tracks. It was easily the biggest hand he had ever seen. The saiyan he had just tussled with had to be among the largest men he’d ever encountered on two legs, and this new one absolutely dwarfed him.   
  
“You’re not very polite.” The big, bald man said. He yanked Bala’s shoulder, throwing him through the air farther than he’d like to admit to getting thrown.   
  
Nappa rushed to Raditz and Kakarot.   
  
“Alright you two, I’ll take it from here. You two need to go find the Cap, sweet tooth.” He said.   
  
Kakarot looked at him with his usual puzzled expression.   
  
“Do you mean ‘tout de suite’?” Raditz asked.   
  
“Shut yer mouth and go get the cap.” Nappa said.   
  
“Nappa you’ll need help. You don’t understand, this guy is-” Raditz started.

 

“Doesn’t matter. I got this. Now get going.” Nappa said.   
  
Raditz stared a moment at Nappa, considering his options.   
  
“Alright. Be careful.”

 

“I always am.” Nappa said.

 

\-----

Bulma listened carefully to every sound around her clenching her wrench. If she had done this right, and she rarely ever did things wrong... She strained her ears to follow the sound of the intruders but she wasn’t some  _ super saiyan, _ she wasn’t even a regular saiyan. She was just a plain old human. Her hearing was average at best but it didn’t take much straining to hear the footfall of the soldiers as they tore through the ship, looking for whatever valuables the saiyans had left behind. 

 

The regular pacing and footfall was interrupted by a tinny clicking sound. She smirked. 

 

_ Bingo. _

 

Screams erupted from the soldiers as her trap sprung shut, undoubtedly killing the unfortunate lackey who had fallen upon the first of her webs of traps. 

 

Damn, she was good. 

 

* * *

 

“Now, who are you supposed to be?” Nappa snorted, chuckling to himself, presumably about some joke he had made in his head and neglected to share out loud. 

 

“I am Admir-”

 

Nappa snorted again. “Don’t much give a good god damn who you command or what lord you serve. I’m Nappa.” he said poking his chest with his thumb. “And I’m a gunna kick yer ass.”   
  
“You’re not the first, nor will you be the last to-”   
  
“Just shut up.” Nappa cut him off.   
  
Flustered, Bala took a ready stance. “Very well. Rush to your death.” and he charged at Nappa.

 

* * *

 

 

The strenuous silence that was strangling Bulma was suddenly broken by the sound of a familiar voice. 

 

“Do they work? These dragon’s balls. Do they work?” Raditz questioned desperately, grabbing Bulma by the shoulders and shaking her lightly. 

 

“I...I don't know Rad. You scared the shit outta me… what are you-” He cut her off. Bulma clenched the welding torch tighter in her hand as she stumbled over her words. This was damn near the last thing she expected to hear out of Raditz's mouth. 

 

“Frieza's right hand says he got the last one. What happens when you get ‘em all?” 

 

“Frieza's ri-” 

 

“No time! What happens  _ Bulma _ ?” 

 

He had never called her that. She hadn't even known he knew her name. Now she was scared. 

 

“You summon an all-powerful dragon and make a wish but-”    
  
He lifted his hand, brandishing a golden-orange orb with four stars on it.   
  
“Where did you- how did you get that from Frieza’s...what did you say,  _ right hand man _ ?”   
  
“I may have hit a shuttle with a ki blast that our dear  _ Admiral _ thought was supposed to be for him. Found this little beauty in the wreckage.”

 

“Raditz...that’s amazing…”

 

“I got a plan, but for it to work ya gonna have ta trust me. Now, can you fly a Frieza Force shuttle.” 

 

* * *

 

Vegeta’s foot caught against a dried root and nearly sent him toppling forward as he made his way towards the brilliant lights that penetrated the darkness. From the looks of it Frieza’s crew had set up camp for some reason. Large halogen lights illuminated the suffocating dark of night. He kept his eyes trained in front of him as he pressed forward. 

 

He heard someone approach before he saw or smelled them. Pulling his pistol free from it’s holster he trained it towards the sound and widened his stance. 

 

“Oh boy Vegeta! Am I glad to see you!” 

 

“Ka-Kakarot?” Vegeta’s brain struggled to catch up as he stared at the goofy saiyan. 

 

“Dude. What are you just standing around for? Hurry up! We gotta go!”

 

“Don’t call me  _ dude _ .” Vegeta snapped. “And what are you on about?” 

 

“We don’t really have time but  _ okay _ if you insist I’ll explain. Do...do you wanna sit down? You don’t look so good Vegeta.”

 

“Shut up Kakarot. Just tell me what’s going on out there.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Raditz's plan was stupid and crazy and most likely going to kill them. But if it worked then it would change everything. 

 

They made their way across corridors and through tunnels and hallways of Frieza’s flag ship, crouching in the shadows as patrols past, listening to what they could make out of the orders that generals and captains barked at lower class warriors. 

 

_ “Raditz.” _ Bulma hissed quietly. 

 

“Shh.” 

 

_ “How do you-”  _

 

“ _ Shhh. _ ” he hissed again through gritted teeth, clapping his hand over her mouth. 

 

She pulled it away, a venomous look distorting her pretty face. 

 

_ “How do you know for sure where the dragon balls are? It feels like we’re going in circles!”   _

 

He motioned his head to the side, indicating for her to follow as a patrol passed.  They crept carefully across the hallway, her hand gripped tight on her phaser. 

 

“Come on. Should be right in here.” he whispered almost inaudibly. 

 

She thumbed the button on her phaser nervously as it threatened to slip from her sweaty hands. 

 

They entered a large room with a bevelled window on one side and a single, padded leather chair in the center of the room. 

 

By the looks of it it was some sort of command center, the bridge of the ship. Through the window, the planet seemed to be getting bigger, clearer. _They must be landing!_ _If only we had waited a few minutes…_ Bulma thought. She mused at all the effort they wasted taking one of the shuttles that had ferried some of the soldiers to the initial battle, then as she struggled to learn the controls of the shuttle and tried to stifle her laughter as Raditz bluffed his way over the comms to getting to dock. Fortunately, the ship seemed understaffed, probably due all the soldiers Raditz claimed they had killed so far.

 

At least they weren’t dead yet, though with all the noise Raditz was making, she wasn’t sure how long that would last.

 

“Where is it? Where is it?” Raditz muttered nervously as his head swung from side to side. He was looking for something but Bulma had no clue what they were looking for. They had already looked several different places and there was no sign of the dragon balls anywhere. For all she knew Frieza had never had them in the first place. Her mind whirred wildly as it pictured all the horrific ways Frieza could and would punish them once he got ahold of them. She had seen only a sliver of what he could do and if she was right, death would truly be merciful. 

 

“Ah ha!” Raditz shouted as he ran across the room to a tiny wine cabinet. “This is the last place I can think to look.” 

 

He rummaged around inside, the sound of tinkling glasses toppling over echoed in the empty room. 

 

“Shhh!” Bulma hissed. “A little quieter dumb ass or we’re going to get caught.” 

 

He turned around with a goofy grin on his face, one she had seen on Goku’s face one too many times. In that moment she could see their similarities. He ran to her, holding a small chest. He opened it, inside were six glowing orbs, each the size of an apple. 

 

“Oh my god…” 

 

* * *

  
Again the oaf just kind of bumbled towards Bala. Bala was surprised even a howler could be this stupid. Sure, he must’ve been more agile than the average galactic denizen, but for a soldier he was downright clumsy.   
  
He rained another combination across the big man’s chest and face before daintily hopping out of reach again. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.   
  
_ Like chopping down a tree...one swing at a time. _ He thought to himself. The big guy wasn’t showing any signs that Bala’s attacks were affecting him at all, but he knew that over time, he’d get him.   
  
“That really all you got?!” the big howler taunted.   
  
_ Taunt all you want. _ Bala thought.  _ I know you’re nervous. _   
  
He charged in once more, nimbly ducking below the big man’s arm. It was too easy. He landed a few crosses on the big guy’s jaw and leapt out of reach again. That is, he meant to, but his last punch was caught in the big man’s hand.   
  
“Whew. Y’know, you’re pretty fast.” Nappa said. “Got a good number of different combinations too. Took me a hot minute to figure out your patterns.” he smiled and started to squeeze Bala’s fist.   
  
Bala tensed.   
  
“Y’know, I could tell the moment I heard you bad mouthin’ Raditz and Kakarot over the scouter yous had a bone to pick with the Saiyans. That’s too bad. Y’know, wantin’ revenge makes people irradial. They don’t think straight. Gonna get you into trouble someday.” He tightened his grip and Bala winced. “Oooh, looks like that day is today...”   
  


Bala screamed as Nappa tightened his grip around his hand, his bones cracking until they were completely crushed. Nappa gripped his hand and in a swift motion pulled him in and grabbed him by the face and chest, his huge hands easily fitting around the tall, yet slender Bala. Bala could barely continue to scream as Nappa’s fingers dug into him. One after another, bones in the admiral’s skull and torso began to crack as he was crushed in Nappa’s hands, brain matter and blood spraying out from his face and chest and dripping down Nappa’s arms.

 

“Some admiral.” Nappa scoffed, shaking the gore from his forearms before spitting on the mutilated corpse.

 

* * *

 

They heard voices in the hallway and they were getting closer and closer. There was nowhere in the room to hide. She could see the panic written on Raditz’s face and then, all of the sudden, a look of serenity and calm. He slammed his fist against the plated glass window again and again until he had made a small hole. 

 

“Raditz, quiet!” she whined. “Someone will hear us!” 

 

“ _ Soesa _ ...you listen to me now, ya hear? Not once in my life I ain't never been no good fer nothing. But you...you gotta chance to  _ save our people.  _ And…” he scoffed, squinting one eye as he did. “I'd expect nothing less from  _ you _ . I’m gonna buy you some time. Use it wisely.” He ruffled her hair and with a quick swoop of his arms he had lifted her off the ground, concealing the brimming tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. “Now go.” And he dropped her to the ground, before she could fall forward he gave her a powerful push in the small of her back and sent her running towards the open field and into the dark night, dragon balls in hand. 

 

Bulma thought of how familiar this all felt as she sprinted away. So familiar, and so very different. 

* * *

 

Vegeta ran faster than he thought he could, sprinting past Kakarot. Though he’d never admit it, something sat cold and dark in the pit of his stomach and as he ran all he could think of was Frieza alone with the  _ Soesa _ . He knew Frieza better than anyone ever had, knew what he was capable of, and he knew what he would do if he found out who  _ the Soesa _ was and what she meant. 

 

The thought made him nauseous but he swallowed it’s sour taste and kept running.  

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma shimmied carefully through the jeffries tube back into the ship, it was a  _ literal _ battlefield out there. This was the best place she could think of to regroup and use the dragon balls, not ideal, but the best idea she had. She pulled her modified night vision goggles off her face and let them rest around her neck as she kicked the grate off with both feet and slid the rest of the way out, the dragon balls clinking against each other in her wadded up shirt as she slid to the floor. The torn and mangled fabric catching on the sharp corner of the grate, her makeshift sack was stuck inside the jeffries tube as she tumbled to the ground. Her butt hit something hard and she turned around to stare into the ugly reptilian face of a Frieza Force elite. 

 

“Shit.” 

 

* * *

 

“Sir.” The soldier stood erect at attention. “We found something on the ship.” 

 

“Oh?” Frieza mused quietly as he turned towards him. “Is that so?” 

 

“Yes, sir.” the soldier saluted as he threw Bulma forward into the mud. 

 

“Mmm, how interesting. A little slave, huh? Rise, child.” Frieza gestured upwards with his palms. 

 

Bulma felt more than a little compelled to listen to the small sickly imp, but she was frozen with fear. 

 

“It’s alright.” Frieza whispered as he stepped towards her. He walked gracefully like a cat on the hunt. 

 

Bulma stumbled to her feet, pushing the soldiers hand off her shoulder with a jerk of her arm. 

 

“Get off of me you disgusting little cretin.”

 

Frieza laughed heartily. 

 

“Now tell me, child….have those nasty monkeys hurt you?” His cold, clammy hand wiped the mud from her face and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. 

 

Before she could think or scream she found herself nodding. 

 

“Fetu!” Nappa screamed as he came barrelling towards her and Frieza, in a swift motion his fist collided with one of the soldiers, lifting him off the ground and sending him flying. The second soldier barely had time to react before he grabbed his face and smashed it into his knee. 

 

“Tamo’e ese i se mea mamao. E le taua po’ofea e te alu iai. ‘Ia alu la’ia!*” 

 

And she did, without a word or a prayer she began to run.

 

Bulma leapt forward into a sprint and before she knew what was happening she collided with the ground, splattering her face and back with warm mud. A hand gripped her ankle tightly. The soldier that she  _ thought _ Nappa had killed. She jerked her leg away but he held fast, fire in his eyes. He hissed something in a language she couldn’t understand. She screamed at him, groping blindly for her phaser as he reached for his. It was lost, she couldn’t find it anywhere in the deep, thick mud. He found his first and stood, towering over her and lifting her effortlessly by her ankle, she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice lost in the thunderstorm. She watched helplessly on at Nappa towering over the small alien.

 

Nappa looked over at Bulma, then stood up to his full height, his eyes scanning the horizon. He took a deep breath.   
  
“Y’know, Freiza. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why we been so scared of you all this time.” he said.   
  
“Oh?” Frieza responded.   
  
“Yeah, I met your precious Admiral Baba or whatever out there. He wouldn’t shut up and was barely entertaining. I’ll bet I could take you right now.”   
  
“Hmmmm, well, don’t let me talk you out of trying…” Frieza responded, his heels pressed together, his arms outstretched at a shallow angle from his sides, his palms forward in a gesture of invitation.   
  
“Yeah,” Nappa said, taking a big step forward. “I’m done running from you…”   
  
“Napa, aua!*”

 

“Filemu, Fetu.” Nappa said before continuing to address Frieza. “Yes, indeedy. I think I could crush you as easily as I crushed him!”   
  
“Napa, fa’amolemole!” Bulma cried again.   
  
“Aua e te popole, Fetu. E fa’ato’a ao ina taulaga lou fanafanua, isi taimi.*” Nappa replied. He continued marching up towards Frieza until they were standing face- to-face, or face-to-waist as it turned out.   
  
Nappa raised a giant fist to crash it down on the alien’s head. Frieza looked positively puny in comparison.   
  
His fist started down when his whole body jerked as a tiny red beam shot up through Nappa’s head. The ground shook as his body collapsed in a heap at Frieza’s feet.   
  
“Well, that was disappointing.” Frieza said, nonchalantly.

 

Now no one stood between Bulma and Frieza and he started once more towards her.

 

“Oh little girl,” Frieza sang. “I hear that my dragon balls are missing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that,  _ would you? _ ” 

 

Bulma wanted to cry but she seemed frozen in time, unaffected by tears or the mud and rain that trickled down her back and into her hair. 

 

A flash of light in the darkness and her screaming was silenced by the ringing in her ears. But she didn’t have time to wait, the dragon balls still sitting in the jeffries tube of the ship. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted through the sludge as fast as she could go.

 

Just several yards away, Vegeta lowered his gun and watched, eyes empty, breathing heavily, as the soldier who had held her toppled to the ground, dead. 

 

“ _ Ohohoho _ this is simply too precious. Oh, Vegeta.” he heard a voice call from behind him and his heart stopped. He pivoted towards the sound, hand on his pistol. Frieza stood at the edge of the field, rain pelting down against his bare skin, arms outstretched towards Vegeta, one foot gracefully in front of the other like a dancer. “Welcome home, my little prince.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

  
  
  
  


Translations:   
  
“Run somewhere far away. It doesn’t matter where you go. Just go! Now!”

  
  


“Napa, aua!* = “Nappa, Don’t!”

 

“Filemu, Fetu.” = “Quiet, Fetu.”

  
“Napa, fa’amolemole!” = “Nappa, Please!”

  
“Aua e te popole, Fetu. E fa’ato’a ao ina taulaga lou fanafanua, isi taimi.= “Don’t worry, You just have to sacrifice your cannon sometimes.”


	24. The New Divide: Part II

**ROGUE PLANET**

* * *

by the Not-So-Super Saiyan

and 

Hanko the Doebringer

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: THE NEW DIVIDE**

**PART II**

* * *

_ There was nothing inside _

_ The memories left abandoned _

_ There was nowhere to hide _

_ The ashes fell like snow _

_ And the ground caved in _

_ Between where we were standing _

_ And your voice was all I heard _

_ That I get what I deserve _

* * *

* * *

 

Vegeta stood, lowering his rifle to his side as the remnants of an army slowly poured from Frieza's flagship and they stood in rank and file, erect, and waiting for orders behind Frieza. 

 

“Excuse me, if you will, Vegeta. Just for a moment, thank you.” 

 

Vegeta scoffed at the sheer audacity. It was all so very  _ Frieza _ .

 

Frieza turned to his troops with a dramatic swoop of the arms. “Find the remaining saiyans and kill them. One thousand credits for every howler's head!” The soldiers were smart enough to not hesitate or ask questions. They scattered like cockroaches in the light. Frieza turned back to Vegeta, revelling in his boiling, bubbling anger. “Oh, ” he added as an afterthought, “and destroy their little ship too.” 

 

Frieza turned to one of his generals. “And you. Detain the prince, but do not kill him. I want to have a little fun with him later.”

 

“I don’t think so Frieza. You’re mine.” Vegeta screamed, enraged he pulled his gun from the holster. Tossing the empty firearm in the air he threw his hands forward, sliding over the head and down the back of the nearest soldier while pushing a bullet through the bandolier strung over his chest. He caught the gun and reloaded it in one swift motion, cocking it as he did so. 

 

With a bang and a wisp of smoke the general toppled to the ground. 

  
  
  


Bulma stood on her tiptoes but could barely see out the small, murky window of the engine room. The dragon balls tucked safely in her arms like a sleeping child. They were so far away, she couldn’t hear anything that was happening and she could barely see it. But she could see Vegeta and she watched with bated breath as he walked closer to Frieza, who stood with outstretched arms.

 

Vegeta snorted and with a dark, empty stare he walked forward. When their eyes met he snarled and without warning spit in Frieza’s face. 

 

The carefully crafted composure shattered into a thousand pieces as Frieza screamed, “Ungrateful whelp!”

 

He grabbed Vegeta by the throat and tossed him like an angry child would carelessly cast aside a rag doll. 

 

Bulma jumped backwards and fell from the command chair in the bridge of the Saiyan ship, appalled at what she saw in the viewscreen. Suddenly gripped by a raw panic that reverberated in her bones, she wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. She had never seen anything or anyone as powerful as Vegeta and this  _ Frieza _ had cast him aside like rubbish with no effort at all. For a moment she had all but forgotten about her mission.

 

She scrambled to her feet and made her way out of the ship to the field behind it laying the dragonballs carefully in a circle. 

 

“Here goes everything.”  she muttered up at the rain.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, well…” Frieza mused, “so the prodigal son returns once again, to the outstretched arms of his master and father.” Frieza extended his arms dramatically towards Vegeta, the smallest of smirks on his face. “Come now, my child. I’m feeling benevolent today.” Frieza mused looking at his nails. “I will make you a deal. If you surrender and step aside I will allow you, my wayward child, to come back home.” 

 

“Join the Frieza Force, mmm?” Vegeta grunted as he stumbled to his feet once more, wiping the blood from his broken nose before setting it straight without even a wince. He scoffed. “No thanks. I’d rather march through the marble orchard.” He spat some of the blood that was dripping down his throat before taking a ready stance.

 

“Very well. Then  _ die you shall _ .” Poison dripped from his voice.

 

Before Vegeta could blink he felt the piercing, searing pain as a beam of energy shot through his stomach and erupted from his back. He stumbled backwards, begging his body to remember how to breathe. He sputtered and blood speckled the mud and Frieza’s outstretched hand.

 

Vegeta wasted no time, rolling to his feet with the grace of an acrobat and launching himself again at Frieza. The damn fool wasn’t even taking this seriously, hardly even adjusting his stance from his silly, rigidly upright posture he adopted so frequently in some sort of pretentious show of intimidation. It made Vegeta sick.

 

Vegeta’s fists flew through the darkness and Frieza’s arm was there to deflect each one.   
  
_ Tzch. _ Vegeta’s eyes widened. Even after all his training, he was still nothing.  _ One Arm. _ That’s all it took to defend against Vegeta’s desperate assault.   
  
He tried everything, systematically. Frieza blocked high, so Vegeta tried to sweep his legs. No good. Frieza was blocking with his right arm, so he focused his attacks on the left side of Frieza’s body, just as pointless. The demon-tyrant moved with preternatural speed, ducking, dodging, weaving, and blocking everything Vegeta tried.

 

Frieza yawned. “Is this really it?” he drawled lazily, crashing his fist into Vegeta’s jaw and knocking him back with a swipe of his tail.   
  


“I had hoped after everything you’d have made something a little more impressive of yourself, Vegeta. Pity. On second thought, you’re not fit for the Frieza Force.”   
  
“I’ll show you something impressive.” Vegeta spat again, clearing the blood from his mouth. He bent his knees, sinking his center of gravity lower and gathered his energy into his body. He grunted with the strain as now, even after hundreds of times practicing the technique, he pushed himself harder than he ever had before. This truly would be the  _ Final _ Flash.   
  


“Eat this you pompous prick!” He screamed as he flung his hands forward, crashing the heels of his palms together and releashed the torrent of energy forward. He couldn’t help but smile - maybe it was the desperate nature of the situation, but he’d finally surpassed the blast from so long ago that had propelled the planet out of its original orbit.   
  
Frieza was actually surprised. The blast was not only immense, it was fast. He  _ almost _ didn’t respond in time. Well, maybe  _ almost _ is being too generous. He shot a beam of energy back at Vegeta.   
  
“Oh-ho-ho!” Frieza cackled. “You know, another of you monkeys already tried this and it didn’t end too well for her! Here’s hoping you do better! Sweet Prince….”   
  
Vegeta groaned with strain - he’d never felt pressure like this before. It felt like his entire being would simply give out every fraction of a second. There was no way he could outdo Frieza… after everything, it all amounted to nothing. He steeled himself.

 

Pouring every ounce of his soul into his blast, he staggered back from the steady progress of Frieza’s blast as it made its way closer and closer to him. He pushed harder still. Harder than he could possibly imagine - it slowed the approach of the impending death, but could not stop it.   
  
_ This is it.  _ He thought to himself.   
  
He refused to simply let it happen though. If Frieza was going to incinerate him, he would have to fight for every inch of ground his ki-wave would gain. Vegeta screamed in impotent rage, his wrath almost enough to unnerve even the evil despot that bore down on him.   
  
A blue beam launched itself from a ridge about twenty yards away, smashing into Frieza, sending his body flying. Vegeta’s own blast, suddenly without opposition, blazed its way into the horizon before fading into nothing. Vegeta gasped for breath, dropping his numb arms limply to his sides.   
  
“Damnit, Kakarot! I told you to stay out of this!”   
  
“Huh? What?” the dumb clown said as he jogged over to Vegeta. “Sorry couldn’t hear ya up there. You okay, Vegeta?” he placed a hand on Vegeta’s shoulder.   
  
Vegeta slapped it away. “Better than you’re going to be if you touch me again!” he spat. “If you think your little interruption actually got the better of Frieza, you’ve got another thing coming. Prepare yourself, Kakarot, and try not to get in the way!”   
  


The sky darkened, a thick, oppressive darkness that even Vegeta couldn’t see through. It seemed to press down all around them and even threatened to snuff out the bright floodlights that beamed from Frieza’s ship like a thick blanket. Suddenly a brilliant flash of yellow light filled the sky from beyond the horizon...and from the direction of the ship.

 

That was it. They must have found the ship and destroyed it. Vegeta’s heart sank but he had no time to mourn. If he wasn’t very careful and very lucky he’d be next to follow after Nappa and the ship. 

  
The ground rumbled as a pile of rubble exploded outward and Frieza stood, his expression dripping with rage. “Those pathetic excuses for soldiers of mine had better have a good excuse for missing this damn monkey and letting him interfere with my play or else they’re dead. THEY’RE ALL DEAD!” he screamed. He retrieved his dead general’s scouter and put it on, clicking a button before speaking.    
  
“All troops, return to the flagship, immediately!”   
  
He didn’t wait for a response, merely tearing the scouter from his face and throwing it to the ground where he crushed it underneath his great, three-toed foot.   
  
“Now, where were we?” He paused in mock contemplation. “Ah, yes. It’s a saiyan bargain sale. Two for the price of one! Although something tells me the quality assurance team is slacking if the moronic look on the new monkey’s face is any indication. No matter.”   
  
Vegeta focused and tried to relax the stiffness in his joints.   
  
“Hey Vegeta?” Kakarot asked innocently. Vegeta hated how he could tell that the fool had only the most honest of intentions.   
  
“...what?” Vegeta hissed.   
  
“What does  _ moronic _ mean?”   
  
“It means you’re an idiot. Now look alive! Here he comes!”

 

* * *

 

 

Bulma was ran towards Vegeta, cursing herself and her legs for not being able to move faster. As she ran, it looked like the sun was coming up over the horizon.   
  
_ Wait a minute… _ she stopped in her tracks.   
  
Resuming her sprint, she tried to encourage her limbs to carry her faster. Coming up to a ridge she peered over just in time to see the clash of blinding yellow and red light flowing like rivers from Vegeta and Frieza. After all this time in the dark, it stung her eyes and she could barely look, but she was stubborn, and refused to turn away.   
  
The red light of Frieza’s ki was crawling towards Vegeta and looked as if it was about to swallow him up. She saw the fierceness of his face, completely devoid of fear, defiant until the end. Tears welled up in her eyes almost more so because of Vegeta’s resolve rather than the impending loss.   
  
At the last second, a third, blue, beam of ki shot down from across the ridge, pelting Frieza and knocking him away.   
  
Vegeta was alive. Then again…

  
She looked closer. It was taking everything he had to keep standing. Blood dripped from his hands and finally it all made sense. She finally suddenly understood why he was always out training, and knew what the strange flashes of light were when he was gone. At least Frieza was gone.   
  
She stood up, ready to run towards Vegeta, to carry him if need be back to the ship and to fix him up. She knew he’d never allow that, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to be there for him, to support her captain and her prince.   
  
A blast of rock and dust erupted from where Frieza’s body had landed and there the disgusting reptile was. Standing, hardly even breathing heavily.   
  
Bulma gasped, frozen in place. Frieza had launched a ki blast more powerful than Vegeta’s that had left the saiyan spent to the point of collapse, and it was as if Frieza hadn’t even exerted himself. She suddenly understood what made him so dangerous. It was as if all the dangers and consequences of ki manipulation - the expenditure of energy, the possible self mutilation or destruction - it didn’t apply to him.   
  
Helplessly, she watched as Goku and Vegeta fought him hand-to-hand, this time with Frieza on the offensive. Frieza focused fire on Vegeta, knocking Kakarot out of the way repeatedly when he interfered with the fight. Goku certainly seemed to move better now than the last time she saw him blundering about sparring with Nappa, but Vegeta and Frieza were still clearly a cut above him.   
  


She came to the conclusion that Frieza must be psychic or something - it was like no matter how many fists or feet, knees or elbows the two saiyans threw at him in combinations it should have been impossible to defend against, they couldn’t touch him.   
  
Bulma fell to her knees as Frieza’s tail wrapped around Goku’s neck, once more throwing him into the air while a thin red beam of energy shot like a bullet at Vegeta, blood squirting from the hole it left in his thigh.   
  


Without a sound Vegeta slowly stood and walked back towards Frieza. 

 

Frieza’s face actually looked surprised. “What is this?” he asked rhetorically. “Does the monkey still want to play? How quaint.”   
  
Something was different about Vegeta. Where his face usually was twisted into a visage of rage at the mere thought of Frieza, now he stood, staring the tyrant in the face and his expression was tranquil, almost hollow.   
  
“If you don’t take this seriously,  _ Frieza _ ” he said the name as if it were poison dripping from his lips. “You might regret it.”   
  
“Oh-ho--oomph” Frieza’s cackle was interrupted by an uppercut. Bulma hadn’t even seen him move, and clearly, neither did Frieza.   
  
It was the complete opposite of everything she had seen up until that point. Vegeta moved as if he were weightless. Without hesitation he followed up each attack with another, landing a barrage of blows, each of which having the force to kill a regular human being outright.   
  
Frieza tried to cover up, to move, turn, parry, or counter - all to no avail. Vegeta’s onslaught was relentless.

 

Bulma had never seen anything like it before. Vegeta matched every move Frieza made with ferocity and precision. He was fast, almost too fast to see. 

 

After what seemed like an eternity that wasn’t nearly long enough of seeing Vegeta exact his revenge one punch at a time, he threw a haymaker that quite literally sent Frieza flying.   
  
Panting, Vegeta collapsed to his knees. Goku was back up, and walked over to him.   
  
“Vegeta! Vegeta!” Bulma called as she started over to him once more.   
  
“Oh-hohoho!”

 

With a flourish of limbs, Frieza daintily somersaulted back to his feet.   
  
“ _ Tzch.  _ Damnit!” Vegeta spat.   
  
“Whoah!” was all the clown, Kakarot could manage.   
  
“What’s this? More uninvited guests to our little party!? My, my….” Frieza relished the fear he knew penetrated the three, chilling their bones. He pointed a finger tipped with red light at the new Blue-haired intruder.

 

_ “Fetu get down!” _

 

She looked up just in time to feel Vegeta’s body collide with hers as he shoved her into the mud and out of the way of the thin beam of light. 

 

She felt nothing. Then, slowly, she heard Vegeta scream and Frieza laugh but everything sounded so far away. She pulled herself free of the sludge and looked around frantically to find Vegeta, grasping his shoulder the stretched skin clung desperately between his shoulder and his limp arm. He widened his stance to keep his knees from buckling. Frieza continued to laugh long after Vegeta fell silent, clenching his shoulder and shuddering violently. A scream tore through him as he held his hand, alight with ki, to the gushing wound. Blood trickled down his arm, the wound now cauterized, his nearly severed arm swinging gently. He adjusted his stance, regaining his balance. 

 

“ _ Ohoho  _ this is just too much! The little monkey has found a little friend. How simply  _ deplorable _ .”

 

Vegeta pulled himself back to his feet, struggling to keep his balance. Frieza casually lifted his hand. A beam of light shot from his finger and through Vegeta’s uninjured shoulder throwing him spinning backwards where he landed facedown in the thick, red mud. 

 

“ _ Ohohoho _ now, Vegeta, child. You must try harder to fight back. This is simply too easy. It  _ almost  _ isn’t fun anymore.”

 

Bulma finally understood, Frieza had been toying with him the entire time, like a cat plays with a mouse.   
  
Her tears mixed with the falling rain in a trail behind her as she charged at the disgusting brute, fists clenched in a rage that she finally understood. She didn’t even get to swing her fist downward before Frieza’s hand grabbed her face and tossed her carelessly to the side. She landed in the mud some fifteen feet or so away, groaning in pain at what was probably a dislocated shoulder.   
  
“Wait your turn, my dear!” He relished the words. “The grown-ups are talking.”   
  
Rolling over, Bulma collided with something small and hard.  _ Damn rocks, that _ was going to leave a mark. She reached behind her and groped through the thick muck when her fingers grasped something smooth and metallic. 

 

She let out a surprised gasp, and smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

Blood spewed from Kakarot’s mouth as he spun once more to the ground. He struggled to get up, but was smashed back to ground with Frieza’s foot between his shoulder blades.   
  
“You certainly are a persistent bunch. Probably too inane to realize the hopelessness of your own situation. What a vapid experience it must be to exist with such a squalor of reason.”   
  
“Better than living in fear.” Vegeta’s hoarse voice cut through the darkness.

  
“Pardon me, dear prince?”   
  
“Psh. Everything you do…” 

 

Vegeta was up. 

 

“Everything you say.” 

 

He was walking towards Frieza.   
  
“It’s plain as day you’re a coward.”   
  
Vegeta was face to face with the mortified Frieza.   
  
“You’re terrified of losing everything because you never earned anything. Never fought, bled, cried, for anything in your goddamned life. Even if I don’t kill you here, someday, someone will. My only regret is I won’t be there to watch your entire facade of confidence and power crumble when they do.”   
  
For the last time, Vegeta spat on Frieza’s trembling face. Blood dripped down his quivering eye and cheek as his face slowly shaped itself into the hellish visage of the devil himself.   
  
“Why you pathetic….” Frieza hissed. “...little…” his tail coiled up and wrapped around Vegeta’s neck. “...primitive…”

 

Vegeta sputtered, blood erupting from his mouth and spraying Frieza in the face. Suddenlyy he ceased his struggling and smirking, looked Frieza in the eyes. 

 

"And what is so _funny_ little monkey?"

  
  
“Excuse me.” came a voice from behind Frieza.   
  
He turned in bewilderment to see Bulma standing there holding a small device in her hand, pointed right at Frieza’s chest.   
  
“...were you about to say  _ monkey _ , bitch?”   
  
Bulma fired her phaser, dumping its entire fuel cell into the single shot that tore Frieza’s body apart.

 

Vegeta fell to the ground, the severed bit of Frieza’s tail loosening from around his neck.   
  
The explosion from her phaser had knocked her back, but she wasted no time in running to Vegeta.

 

He struggled to turn over to look at her, his dark eyes flat and tired. They fluttered closed as he collapsed into a pile of rubble. Something dark and cold crawled up the back of her spine. She tried not to scream as she scrambled over the debris towards him, nearly tripping over herself and falling on top of him. Bulma dropped to her knees paying no mind to the rocks and rubble that scratched and poked at her legs and the thick muddy clay that threatened to swallow them whole. Carefully she turned him over onto his back. Her heart sank deep into her ribs and fluttered painfully. Small holes pumped hot blood from the muscles in his arms and legs and riddled his torso. 

 

His shallow breaths were labored, his body tense with agonizing pain, and yet he looked so peaceful. His glassy eyes rolled aimlessly about as he muttered under his breath. She shook his shoulders, trying to drag him back to the present.

 

“Vegeta….Vegeta...” The mounting desperation catching in her throat. His eyes fluttered opened and he looked through her. She could see it in his eyes he was somewhere else entirely. 

 

She was losing him.

 

“Vegeta, speak to me...say something.”

 

“Y-you never did….get the ship off the ground…” he chuckled weakly. 

 

“She’ll fly, love. She will. We just-”

 

“Just be quiet...it’s...it’s alright.” The hoarse words barely escaped his lips. “You're free now, my people are free. I can die in peace….and” he coughed and Bulma hung on every word he struggled to speak. “...and... _ Ou te tu’usa’oloto ‘oe. Toefo’i i lou ‘aiga.* _ ”

 

“‘O ‘oe ‘o lo’u ‘aiga*. I’m not going anywhere without you.” She wailed, choking on a smile. “You're going to be just fine.” She locked eyes with him, lifting his mangled hand in hers and holding as carefully as if it were a baby bird. She brought it to her lips and kissed it gently. Her eyes screwed shut tight. 

 

He struggled to speak and she hung on every ragged breath and wet cough.

 

“You've always...been a...terrible... liar,  _ Fetu. _ ” 

 

She couldn't look down, couldn't see just how bad it was... but she didn't need to to feel the blood bubble between her fingers and soak her lap from his back. He looked at her, his tired eyes pale. She felt his grip on her fingers loosen as his hand went limp in hers. 

 

She was losing him. 

 

She panicked and pressed harder into the gaping wounds in his chest. Willing them to stop the gentle pull of his life. Willing him to stay.

 

“No, no, no. Vegeta. Stay with me.” She begged as warm tears fell on his face like gentle rain. She frantically brushed the hair from his eyes. 

 

“Just let me sleep, already.” his voice rattling inside his lungs. It was all so much worse than she told herself. Blood squished through the rags she held to his chest, soaking through and running down her fingers. “Its okay.” He lifted a hand to her face, cupping her cheek with his raw palm. “I am ready.”

 

“But I'm not.” She choked on her sobs as they dug into her chest like fingers clawing at her lungs. “You can't go. Not now.”

 

“You’re still so annoying.” his face twisted in pain but he smiled. His eyes fluttered closed despite his best efforts to keep them open. It was the first time she had seen his face so relaxed and genuine. As if the entire world had been lifted off his shoulders. He lifted his hand from where it clasped at his side, twisting into the gaping hole in his chest. He wrapped it around her neck, his hand slipping and leaving a trail of blood down her neck and the hair that stuck to her skin with sweat. He pulled her in close, pressing her forehead to his. 

 

A sacred kiss. The most genuine expression of love he could possibly give.

 

“Bulma...I…”

 

She heard Goku gasp behind her, his voice little more than a shocked whisper. “Vegeta…” 

 

Clumsily Vegeta tried to pull the triton brooch from his scarf, but ripped the worn fabric from his neck and pushed the brooch and the rags into her hand. 

 

She clasped the bloody pin tightly, feeling it's sharp edges poke into the soft flesh of her palm.  

 

She wanted to wail to the sky, to curse the heavens but she couldn't. Her tears had run dry. She stood, stumbling to her feet. 

 

Numbly Bulma walked to the monster, pulling the gun from where it was holstered on her back. She would have torn the body to shreds with her bare hands were it not already in pieces. She would have ripped its throat out and relished in its gurgling screams as it choked on its own blood. But she did not.    
  
Frieza lay on the ground, His head attached to his torso and one arm, missing both legs and his other shoulder.    
  
Frieza laughed hoarsely, propping  his body upwards to face her with his one arm.

 

“I thought he’d never shut up.” he laughed, his eyes taunting. “Did you think you’d be rid of me that eas-”

 

Without a second thought Bulma lifted Vegeta’s pistol and shot the monster emptying the clip into his head.

 

Rage warmed her bones and prickled her stomach as she growled, spitting upon the head of the tyrant. 

 

Footsteps approaching from behind stirred her from the almost meditative state she was in as she watched the black blood slowly ooze from Frieza’s desiccated remains.   
  
“Hey, Bulma?”    
  
“What is it, Kakarot?” she asked, detachedly.   
  
“What are we gonna do about those guys?”   
  
“Hm?” She looked up to see the gathering soldiers on the lip of the ridge surrounding them. She sighed.  _ Some army,  _ she thought.  _ How long had it been since Frieza had recalled them and they were only just now arriving? _   
  
“We’re going to kill them.” she stated matter-of-factly.   
  
“Uhhh…” Kakarot muttered. “I’m, uh...I’m strong. But I’m not  _ that _ strong.”   
  
“You don’t have to be.” Bulma said, turning to him with a smile.

* * *

 

 

Bardock still couldn’t believe it, appraising his two hands even as he ran and squeezing his waist with his tail. He had no idea what happened, or how he got back on the Rogue Planet, but here he was.   
  
Stoks was to his right, smiling up at the dark sky. She had done it, just like he knew she would. He stopped and crossed his ankles carefully and sunk to the earth, gathering his energy at his center he extended his arms upwards and a brilliant, white beam of light shot forth from his outstretched arms, coalescing into an orb that hovered high in the sky like a shimmering moon.

 

“Stoks, how the hell did you-” Raditz began. 

 

“Learned it on Ornio.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Been saving it for a special occasion.” he winked and tapped his nose with his knuckle.   
  
“Right, now let’s hurry. Ufi, Tommen, Lato, Mosh, Kahdish, Tschev… let’s show them bastards how to dance.”

 

“Y’alls know I only gots two left feet!” Bellowed Nappa, running into the lead. “Guess I’ll be toeing on some steps…”

* * *

It was a massacre. The saiyans that looked up at the artificial moon Stoks had launched into the sky transformed into nightmare-ish creatures, destroying everything in their paths. Teeth tore through flesh as clenched fists ripped limbs from their sockets. The forty-some-odd saiyans had made quick work of the few hundred or so soldiers that had gathered around Frieza’s flagship. It seemed to take almost as long for the dust to settle, the earth to still, and the stench of blood and death to seep into everything as it had for the battle to end. 

 

Nappa was the first to find Bulma, curled up beside Vegeta’s body, tears in her eyes. Now that it was all over it was all she could do to keep from falling to tiny pieces. She couldn’t believe it. He was gone. He was really gone. Nappa said not a word but lifted her up in the air like a mother swoops up their injured child and held her tight. As he held her broken pieces together she began to fall apart.

 

The two girls collapsed into each other's arms, sinking into the warm mud. Tschev wailed into the crook of her neck. Crying for the first time in as long as she could remember. Basil ran her hands through Tschev's hair, kissing her gently on the forehead over and over again. 

 

Raditz lifted Lato up into his arms, holding her tight and weaving his fingers through her hair. He couldn’t help it, he cried and he let himself fall to pieces.    
  
“Bardock.” Bulma called as she ran to him. “Bardock. I’m so sorry.” 

 

He looked at her with a look of bewilderment. 

 

“I tried to bring back all of them, tried to bring back Gine but the dragon could only resurrect those who had died within the last year I-” 

 

He cut her off, wiping the tear from her cheek and tapping her nose with his knuckle. 

 

“Hush now  _ Fetu, _ ya done a good thing here. Don’t be statin’ no rejectionals bout it.”

 

Bulma watched for a time as the saiyans hooted and hollered, celebrating their battle and victory but more than anything, their reunion. What surprised Bulma the most were the children. Children had fled and fought with the howlers and had died at the hands of Frieza’s troops. Family found family and friend found friend.

 

One of the saiyans called out to her, short hair blowing in the wind, as she tried to force it back out of her round face and behind her ears. 

 

“Hello! Excuse me. Hi. Ufi here...yes...uh, where is the captain?” 

 

The other saiyans voiced agreement and muttered questions. 

 

“Everyone.” Bulma called, tears welling up in her eyes and choking her. “Excuse me, everyone.” 

 

A saiyan woman with a dark red ‘x’ painted across her face spat in the dirt, swinging her hip outwards and placing a defiant hand on it. 

 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” 

 

“Watch your tongue Mosh or I’ll rip it from your head and eat it.” Nappa boomed. “That’s there is  _ Fetu _ and she’s the only reason yer sorry ass is alive.” 

 

The crowd of saiyans fell silent. 

 

“I am Fetufuatarakoolefa’amoemoeileuliulipato’i, Bulma Briefs of Earth, and tautai of the saiyan vessel Fitivale*. Pri-Prince Vegeta,” she choked, “is dead and he has entrusted the wellbeing of the ship Fitivale and her crew to me.” she held up the triton brooch towards the saiyans and they burst into protest and questions. 

 

As she did she looked around to the crew, her crew. Every last one fell silent with head bowed solemnly in respect for their fallen captain and respect for their new leader. The hot wind blew the stench of blood and death wildly around the air. 

 

* * *

 

 

Tschev slipped quietly from between Basil’s arms, pushing her bangs from her face and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. She stood and stared down at her love, something she had never thought she would do again. 

 

She padded through the halls quietly, rolling her shoulders and stretching her tail. The ship was silent, a rare feat for a saiyan ship, and dark, the only light the speckled stars that illuminated the juts and curves of the corrugated metal walls. 

 

As she passed the bridge she heard a sound, a faint tapping drummed repetitively. 

 

“Hmm.” 

 

She slid the door to the bridge aside. 

 

Bulma sat in the captain’s chair, her foot up on the console, drumming her fingers on the metal edge of the console. Tschev hadn’t said a word to Bulma since they had launched the ship. In fact, she had actively avoided her. She felt a connection to her now that made her more than a little uncomfortable. She didn’t want to feel it but she did. And to boot she just couldn’t express it in words. Bulma hadn’t just lost her captain like the rest of the crew had. She had lost her love.

 

Tschev knew that intimately. 

 

“Cap…” Tschev started, but she couldn’t seem to find the words, “Cap...what are you doing?” 

 

“Planning Tschev.” Bulma answered blankly. 

 

“Planning what?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“Our next move.” Bulma muttered, her mind very clearly somewhere else entirely. 

 

“And what’d that be cap?” 

 

“We’re going to find the dragon balls.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ ‘Ou te tu’usa’olotoina ‘oe. Toefo’i i lou ‘aiga = “I set you free. Return to your home.” _

 

Note: In Samoan, they don’t  _ actually _ have a word for ‘home’. They use the word  _ ‘aiga _ which means ‘family’ in place of ‘home’ (although their concept of family is a bit different than ours). Anyway, the above could just as easily also mean ‘...return to your family’, which is important because….

 

_ ‘O ‘oe ‘o lo’u ‘aiga _ = “You are my family.”

 

Fitivale - to fight for your life 

* * *

* * *

AN: Thanks to everyone who has taken this journey with us and left comments. We've lived for reading them and love all the wonderful feedback we've received. Thanks everybody, it's been one hell of a ride. 

 

We have one more chapter but we are debating whether or not we are going to post it. thoughts?


	25. Sneak Peek: Rogue Faction

Bulma stood frozen, unable to move or to look away as Frieza’s tail coiled tighter around Vegeta’s throat. Frieza relished in the sounds of strangulation. He had dreamt of revenge but it’s music was sweeter than he could possibly imagine. He laughed heartily as Vegeta clawed and scraped at his skin, unable to break free, struggling to breathe. His eyes wide with desperation they wandered to her face. He smiled weakly down at her and with a thick, wet crunch he went limp, eyes still wide. 

 

Bulma sat upright. Frieza was dead and her logical, waking mind knew that. But somewhere in the trembling of her hands she still feared him.

 

“What is it?” came the groggy voice beside her. 

 

“Nothing. Just a bad dream,” she wiggled under Vegeta’s arm and buried her face in his scarred chest. 

 

“Go back to bed.” Vegeta grumbled as he pulled her closer, planting a sleepy kiss on her forehead.

 

She had nearly drifted off again when she heard him. He began to cough and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. She sat upright and turned on the light. After a moment a sick gurgling sound came from his open mouth and his hands flew to his throat as he gasped for breath. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and pooled in the crook of his neck where she had just been. He looked up at her with desperate eyes, pleading for reprieve. She watched helplessly as he drown in his own blood, legs still tangled in the holey blanket. 

 

And then, as she always did, Bulma awoke. Her world pooled around her and hardened like cooling wax. And reality, her reality came crashing down around her once again. Vegeta was dead. He had been for nearly three months. And for three months the nightmares had continued.     

 

She dreaded sleep, counting down the hours until it inevitably took hold of her, lulling her in with it’s gentle pull. She sniffled and without warning burst into tears. She was exhausted, arguably more tired after these nightmares within nightmares. She could never tell whether she was awake or asleep. She pulled her knees into her chest and wiped her eyes sloppily on her arm. That’s when she noticed, peering in from the darkness of room, two wide yellow eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hanko and I are happy to announce we are starting the sequel to Rogue Planet, Rogue Faction. Stay tuned for more updates and hit me up on Twitter/Tumblr for more updates! 
> 
> xoxo, 
> 
> Mo


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